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NATURE'S CRAFTSMEN 


BOOKS BY INEZ N. McFEE 

NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 
SECRETS OF THE STARS 
STORIES OF AMERICAN INVENTIONS 
BOY HEROES IN FICTION 
GIRL HEROINES IN FICTION 
BOYS AND GIRLS OF MANY LANDS 
LITTLE TALES OF COMMON THINGS 
A PEEP AT THE FRONT 
A TREASURY OF MYTHS 
A TREASURY OF FLOWER STORIES 


THOMAS Y. CROWELL CONEW YORK 









© Underwood & Underwood 


Frontispiece 


SILKWORMS 



NATURE’S 

CRAFTSMEN 


t 


By / 

INEZ N. jyfcFEE 


Author of “Secrets of the Stars," “Little Tales 
of Common Things," “Boys and Girls 
of Many Lands," etc . 


ILLUSTRATED 



NEW YORK 

THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 






% 



I 

Copyright, 1923, 

By THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY 



\ 


Printed in the United States of America 


iHJL 26 ’23 


©C1A7113G7 



'wu 



PREFACE 


This book, as its title implies, is an effort to 
make us human folks acquainted with some of 
Nature’s humbler toilers—the builders, engineers, 
mechanics and professionals who do things quite 
as wonderful in their own way as the best that 
man can produce. 

As we walk through garden, meadow, or wood¬ 
land, we have constant opportunities to witness 
them at work, or behold the results of their labors; 
but too often we pass by with unseeing eyes. 
“ Oh, it is only a spider’s web, or an oriole’s 
nest! ” we say, and dismiss the subject from our 
minds. If we once could become really acquainted 
with the little craftsmen themselves—if we could 
draw the veil aside and see a fraction of the many 
marvels which Nature constantly has in store— 
how thrilled and humbled we would be! 

This is precisely what the present volume en¬ 
deavors to do in some measure. While addressed 
to young folks primarily, it is for every reader 
whose heart is still young and who rejoices in the 
open road. It brings together many a novel and 
interesting fact. The chapter headings alone 
will illustrate this fact: “A Race of Telegra- 



PREFACE 


phers,” “ Tiny Builders of a Great Nation,” 
“ Some Clever Weavers,” “ Rope Dancers,” 
“ Tunnel Builders,” “An Insect Tailor,” etc. 
Here we meet spiders that indulge in airship 
rides; ants that keep cattle; caterpillars that 
weave marvelous garments; silkworms that have 
made fortunes for their owners; and many an¬ 
other worker whose life story reads like the 
romance which it really is. 

As we turn these pages we can but recall the 
exclamation of David, the Psalmist: “ Great and 
marvelous are thy works, O God, and thy won¬ 
ders past finding out! ” 


CONTENTS 


A Kace of Telegraphers 




PAGE 

1 

Tiny Builders of a Great Nation 

- 

- 

22 

Some Clever Weavers - 

- 

- 

- 

36 

A Family of Bope Dancers - 

- 

- 

- 

46 

Interesting Tunnel Builders 

- 

- 

- 

57 

A Marvelous Manufacturer 

- 

- 

- 

64 

Progressive Town Builders 

- 

•m 

- 

75 

An Insect Tailor - 

- 

- 

- 

83 

Some Timber Cutters - 

mm 

- 

- 

95 

A Queer House Builder 

- 

- 

- 

103 

Famous Spinners - 

- 

- 

- 

109 

A Skilled Cement Worker - 

- 

- 

- 

120 

Some House-Boat Builders - 

- 

- 

- 

127 

Other Famous Builders 

- 

- 

- 

135 

A Band of Tireless Hunters 

- 

- 

- 

139 

Some Noted Beacon Bearers 

- 

- 

- 

147 

An Interesting Little House Builder 

- 

153 

A Masterly Brigand - 

- 

- 

- 

162 

Policemen of the Garden - 

- 

- 

- 

175 

A Nocturnal Huntress 

mm 

- 

- 

186 

Queer Chimney Builders - 

- 


- 

193 

A Clever Locksmith 

- 

- 

- 

200 

A Rascally Hunchback 

• 

• 

mm 

206 


CONTENTS 


Some of Nature’s Choristers 


_ 

PAGE 

212 

An Apple Thief - 

- 

- 

220 

A Band of Pirates - 

- 

- 

226 

Little Air Policemen - 

- 

- 

240 

An Artful Little Diver 

- 

- 

249 

The Birds’ Watchmen - 


- 

256 

A Great Hunter - 

- 

- 

265 

The First Paper-Makers 

- 

- 

271 

An Insect Carpenter - 

- 

- 

280 

Some Famous Nerve Specialists - 

- 

- 

286 

An Insect That Prays For Food - 

- 

■v 

305 

Loyal Little Lance-Bearers 


cm 

311 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Silkworms - 

- 

Frontispiece 

PAGE 

Spider’s web - 

- 

- 

- 

4 

A monster spider - 

- 

m 

- 

12 

Side view of common spider 

- 

- 

- 

16 

Common spider with her young 

- 

- 

- 

16 

Nest of the mound building ant 

- 

mm 

- 

22 

A monument to the industry of the ant 

- 

- 

29 

The carpenter ant - 

- 

- 

- 

29 

Procession of caterpillars - 

- 

- 

- 

50 

The beaver at work - 

- 

- 

- 

98 

“ Super ” silkworms at work 

- 

- 

- 

112 

The South American “ lightning grasshopper ” 

- 

152 

A snail “ race ” - 

- 

- 

- 

156 

The “ long horn ” grasshopper - 

- 

- 

- 

190 

Trap-door spider at its nest 

- 

mm 

- 

202 

The “ nightmare ” frog 

- 

- 

- 

212 

Hornet’s nest attached to a twig 

- 

- 

«• 

272 

Interior of wasp’s nest 

- 

- 

- 

272 

Mason wasp at her nest 

- 

- 

- 

278 

The “ jug builder ” - 

- 

- 

T 

278 

Hornet attacking a honey-bee - 

- 

- 


284 

Hairy wasp (digger) with its bee victims 

- 


287 

Wasp enlarged showing profile - 

- 

- 


287 

Portrait of a praying mantis 

- 

- 

- 

306 

The bumblebee viewed from below 

- 

- 


320 

An intimate view of honey-bees 

- 

- 

- 

320 




Nature’s Craftsmen 


A RACE OF TELEGRAPHERS 

44 We human folks think ourselves very 
clever,” observed Uncle John, evidently pursu¬ 
ing a train of thought suggested by the magazine 
he had just laid aside. 44 We talk about the mag¬ 
nificent buildings we have built, and the splendid 
machines we have devised to help our marvelous 
workmen turn out all sorts of triumphs. We 
think we have a corner on all the mechanical skill 
and inventive genius in the world. And yet, 
without half trying, I could name a score or more 
of little workers—mechanics and laborers of all 
sorts—who do things far more wonderful than 
man.” 

44 Nature’s craftsmen, I suppose you mean,” 
Auntie returned smilingly. 44 There are a host 
of ingenious workmen, manufacturers and trades¬ 
men among them, to be sure, but haven’t you 
rather overstepped your statement? ” 

44 Not at all. The instinctive powers of Na¬ 
ture’s craftsmen are all God-given; they are His 

own living object lessons, sent to point the way to 

1 



2 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


man. Take the hornets and wasps, for instance, 
they were making paper ages and ages before 
man attempted it; indeed it is a well-known fact 
that man got his first ideas of the paper-making 
art from these industrious little citizens, who have 
been living in paper houses and rearing their 
young in paper cradles since the beginning of 
Time. The beavers built the first dams, the ants 
and moles the first tunnels, and the mussels and 
nautilus constructed house-boats long before man 
ever even dreamed of such a thing. Then, there 
are the spiders—a natural born race of teleg¬ 
raphers ; besides, long before the invention of bal¬ 
loons and aeroplanes, spiders had solved the 
problem of aerial navigation. Instances are on 
record of spiders being met by ships at sea hun¬ 
dreds of miles from land.” 

“Do tell!” ejaculated Max, using Grand¬ 
mother’s favorite expression in his astonishment. 
44 How ever do they manage it? ” 

44 Easily enough, it seems,” smiled Uncle John, 
44 though the spiders’ methods of sailing through 
the air are widely different from man’s.” He 
drew the small lad down on the bench beside him, 
and kept an arm around his shoulders as he went 
on to explain: 44 Usually it is the young spiders 
that are the aeronauts. Young folks are always 
the most venturesome, you know. I’ve watched 
a band of spiders take to the air many a time. 


A RACE OF TELEGRAPHERS 3 


They climb to the top of some object—a fence 
post, a weed stalk, the end of a twig, or perhaps 
just a hummock of earth. From this vantage 
point they spin out a thread, which the wind bears 
gently away. If it is contemplating a voyage of 
any extent, the spider attaches a small flaky mass, 
a product of its own manufacture, to the thread 
to increase the force of the air current upon it. 
On goes the spinning until the friction of the air 
upon the silken thread is strong enough to buoy 
up the spider, when it lets go with its feet, and 
is borne away by the wind. A novel balloonist 
enough, don’t you think? ” 

“ Yes, indeed,” cried Tommy excitedly, having 
abandoned an interesting book to join the group. 
“ I’ve seen ’em flying along, too, but I didn’t 
think much about it—didn’t know it was a spider 
ballooning, I mean. I thought it was just a 
spider’s web torn away by the wind.” 

“ That’s the trouble with most of us, my boy,” 
said Uncle John, soberly. “ We take too many 
miracles just for granted. And we make mira¬ 
cles and direful portents of simple matters that 
are very easily explained. For example, a few 
mornings ago I chanced to be passing Deacon 
Trueblood’s; Miss Margaret hailed me in con¬ 
siderable excitement, wanting me to come and 
see the silken sheet which the fairies had spread 
over the newly plowed ground where she was 


4 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 

going to set her rose garden. She did not know 
whether it was an omen of good or evil, and I was 
most happy to reassure her. Plainly enough a 
gay company of young aeronauts had assembled 
for an air-meet. But when they had spread their 
silken sailing ropes, preparatory to taking flight, 
the wind had been too strong for them. Try as 
they might they could not get the ropes to 
‘ carry ’; the wind merety blew the threads pro- 
vokingly from one furrow hummock to another. 
Being a persistent set, as all the spider clan are, 
they must have spent hours in the attempt: the 
little plot was quite covered with the sadly strewn 
and tangled gossamer threads.” 

“We often see spider webs sparkling all over 
the lawn in the early morning dew,” said Mabel. 
“ Are these the threads of balloonists? ” 

“ Not at all, my dear,” Uncle John returned 
quickly. “ They are exactly what you termed 
them—spider webs. They are woven in a me¬ 
thodically exact pattern, all as near alike as two 
peas, and they are, in truth, the snares which the 
grass spiders have spread to catch their prey. 
Nor are they an over-night growth. No telling 
how many weeks they may have been spread right 
there. Unless it is disturbed, a spider occupies 
the same web all the season, building over and 
repairing it when needs must. The dew simply 
shows up the webs to us. If you are interested 



© Ewing Galloway 


SPIDER’S WEB 





































A RACE OF TELEGRAPHERS 5 

enough to investigate, you will find the little 
householder patiently waiting beneath its sheet 
for the dew to dry so that it may open up shop, 
or perchance it may be a nocturnal spider—a 
large portion of the race are. In that case, it 
will either be drowsing or meditating in its tele¬ 
graph booth, a little tubular retreat near at hand, 
which has an open back door, so that it may es¬ 
cape on the instant, if necessary. A small awn¬ 
ing stretches above the sheet. This is for the 
purpose of entangling the unwary insect in its 
flight. Should some poor little blunderer brush 
into these deftly strung threads and drop onto 
the sheet below, the spider is on hand instantly. 
For no matter how deep its slumbers or how ab¬ 
sorbing its meditations, it listens with its hind 
leg! Its toe serves as the receiving instrument 
of its telegraph outfit, and it is quick to catch the 
slightest message from its ingenious sounding 
board.” 

“ Oh, Uncle John! ” expostulated Tommy, his 
tone proclaiming plainly that he considered this 
the baldest “ tara-diddle.” 

“Fact, lad,” Uncle John assured him evenly. 
“ You can test its truth by looking carefully be¬ 
hind the web of any spider with a daytime hiding 
place. You will note at once a thread leading 
out and away from the center of the web where, 
the spokes meet. This is the drag-line or tele- 


6 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 

graph wire. It also serves the spider as a foot¬ 
bridge. Follow its length closely. This is usu¬ 
ally not over twenty-two inches, though the An¬ 
gular spider, a tree species, is said to have a drag¬ 
line often eight or nine feet long. At the end of 
the line is the spider’s retreat: in some instances 
a burrow in the earth, in others a leaf rolled into 
a little tubular shelter, in others a tent made by 
joining a few leaves together with bits of silk— 
all depending on the size and kind of the spider. 

“ In each instance, the spider is safely hidden, 
all but its hind leg; this you will find stretched 
out with the toe firmly grasping the line. Upon 
the foot of the spider is a wonderful comb-like 
structure which may aid it in getting messages. 
Go back and drop some bait into the center of the 
web and see what happens. Instantly the net is 
set vibrating, and the spider shoots down the 

drag-line almost instantaneously. It-” 

“ Wait a minute,” demanded Tommy, his in¬ 
terest making him both brusque and unceremoni¬ 
ous. “ How does the spider know what jarred 
the web? The wind must often shake it. Doesn’t 
the spider come down then? ” 

“ It does not,” averred Uncle John stoutly. 
“ This has been proven over and over. The spi¬ 
der knows the difference in the vibration made 
by the struggle of a prisoner and that of a mere 
shaking caused by the wind. It remains abso- 



A RACE OF TELEGRAPHERS 7 

lutely indifferent to any but the proper sum¬ 
mons, and then, in most instances, it rushes up 
at a great rate, quickly spins out a winding-sheet 
or shroud and binds the hapless victim securely, 
when it may be eaten at the victor’s leisure. It is 
said that spiders of the larger and more intelli¬ 
gent species usually go over their nets once a day, 
and cut the ropes entangling any ‘ meat ’ that 
may not be strictly fresh, letting it fall to the 
ground. The web is then repaired and every¬ 
thing made ready for future business. 

“ Most spiders live in deadly fear of the mud- 
dauber (wasp). He is the little spiderling’s 
nursery bugaboo. I read an amusing instance the 
other day. It seems that a certain student of the 
spiders’ habits determined to play a trick on an 
orange garden spider that he had on his visiting 
list. Dropping around to the lady’s headquar¬ 
ters, he quietly deposited a live wasp in her great 
snare.—Don’t ask me how he caught the vindic¬ 
tive creature: I don’t know!—Instantly Madame 
Miranda—the family name of this species—came 
hurrying at the summons, but ere she was quite 
upon her prisoner she saw his character. No 
doubt she was quite thunderstruck! For she 
stepped back and eyed her enemy warily; then, 
evidently reassured by her natural confidence in 
the strength of the entangling meshes, she moved 
forward cautiously, and without making any ef- 



8 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


fort to kill her prey, as is usually done the first 
thing, she stood well away and began to spin a 
strong shroud, and shortly had the struggling 
wasp bound securely in it. Would she keep him 
that way and feast upon the live insect? The 
gentleman watched eagerly. Eating her enemy 
was, however, evidently the last thing in Madame 
Miranda’s thoughts. Possibly she considered him 
too vile for consumption! Or mayhap she 
thought merely devouring him not sweet enough 
revenge! At any rate, she proceeded deliberately 
to cut the meshes which held the mummy- 
case, and let Mr. Wasp fall to the ground, there 
to lie and starve slowly to death in his unique 
silken casket.” 

“Hi!” exulted Max, pointing his chubby 
finger delightedly, “ there’s one of those balloon¬ 
ist fellows now! See! Yonder by the garage, 
swinging along on a rope of silk.” 

It was Sunday afternoon. The family were 
gathered on the west porch, a cool, leafy retreat 
opening from the dining-room, and they one and 
all leaned eagerly forward to see the aerial ad¬ 
venturer. 

“ He must be a beginner,” ventured Mabel. 
“ At any rate, he believes in playing safe! See, 
he has anchored himself carefully to the garage 
wall! ” 

“Good!” commended Uncle John, his very 


A RACE OF TELEGRAPHERS 9 

tone giving Miss Mabel a nice little congratula¬ 
tory pat. “ I was wondering if any of you were 
going to notice that! Yonder swinging acrobat is 
no balloonist; it belongs to the tribe of jumping 
spiders, and it is one of the keenest little hunters 
imaginable. It swung out there on its drag-line 
to catch some insect winging by, and you may be 
very sure it was successful, too. These little fel¬ 
lows are quicker than scat! They never build a 
web, but lurk along in the shadow on the sides of 
buildings, trees, posts, and the like, and spring 
out upon any passing game which excites their 
fancy. They move sideways or backwards just 
as easily as forwards, and they can jump a con¬ 
siderable distance, as you have just seen. 

“ There are several thousand species of jump¬ 
ing spiders, and all of them are worth knowing. 
Many are bright colored, some glowing in rain¬ 
bow hues, and nearly all have a thick coloring of 
hair or scales. Unlike most of the spider clan, 
the males are as large as the females. They do 
not dress in as gay colors, however, but they make 
up for this by wearing odd bunches and patches 
of hair on their legs. They are inordinately 
proud of their unique ornament, and make it a 
feature of their courtship. Indeed, it is said that, 
in some species, the little duffers dance and caper 
madly before the female whom they wish to at¬ 
tract, striking all sorts of grotesque attitudes, 


10 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


even waving their legs over their heads to display 
their fine patches! 

“ They build an odd sae-like nest made up of 
several envelopes. Here the spiders hide during 
the moulting season, and here they spend the 
winter. Here, too, the eggs are sheltered in frail 
little hammocks. The young hatch early in the 
season, and are carefully guarded by the mother 
until they are ready to engage in life’s business. 
By fall they are equal to spinning their own sac 
winter quarters. 

“ If you youngsters want a fad this summer, 
why not try spiders? I once heard a man say 
that, if spiders did not occur in our country, and 
we could bring in some of these wondrous little 
animals that spin from their bodies threads of 
silk of different kinds, and with these threads 
build homes and cradles and wonderful snares 
for entrapping their prey, we would all make 
long journeys to see them, and gladly pay the 
price of a heavy admission fee. Spiders’ webs 
are to be found everywhere, and every time you 
discover a new pattern you may be sure of mak¬ 
ing the acquaintance of another family in the 
great clan. Webs are exceedingly interesting 
things, and you boys who have tried making 
snares will be surprised at their cunning. They 
are built in all sorts of forms, from the common 
irregular tangled mazes of our household spiders, 


A RACE OF TELEGRAPHERS 11 


and the sheet-webs of our fields and lawns, to 
circles, orbs, platforms, funnels, purses, triangles, 
tubes, wondrous filmy domes, lamp shades, and 
what note 

“ A common spider here in the South is known 
as the bowl and doily spider. This little animal 
—by the way, perhaps you think spiders should 
be called insects? If so, you are wrong. All in¬ 
sects have six legs; spiders have eight. Also, an 
insect’s body is divided into three parts—head, 
thorax, and abdomen—while the spider’s body 
has but two. True they look so much like in¬ 
sects and have so many of their ways that most 
people do call them insects. Nevertheless, they 
are animals. And, as I was about to state, among 
them are none that build a more ingenious trap 
than the bowl and doily spider. The central fea¬ 
ture of the web is a well-formed finger-bowl, on * 
the lower center of which the spider usually rests. 
Below her is stretched a broad sheet or ‘ doily,’ 
which protects her from enemies which might at¬ 
tack her from below. Several inches above the 
bowl is a maze of entangling threads for the dy¬ 
ing insects. The web is usually built in a low 
bush, sometimes on the lower branches not far 
from the ground. It is carefully held in place 
by guy ropes to surrounding twigs, and will with¬ 
stand the dercest gales.” 

“ I’ll bet I know where there’s a bowl and doily 



12 


NATURE'S CRAFTSMEN 


spider joint right now," exulted Tommy. “Any¬ 
how it’s a spider’s nest in a bush! I pass it every 
evening when I go for the cows, but I’ve never 
thought of investigating it specially. How will 
I know the spider for sure. Uncle John? ’’ 

“ It’s a little brownish-yellow animal, with 
light colored markings. But the snare is suffi¬ 
cient identification; no other spider builds a web 
like it. Satisfy yourself that the trap is a genuine 
bowl and doily; then enjoy the little householder 
at your leisure." 

“ But be very careful, son," admonished 
mother. “ Spiders bite on the least provocation, 
and some of them are dreadfully poisonous. 
Most of the large ones are, aren’t they, John?" 

“No, Lucy, they are not," her brother re¬ 
turned, positively. “ Spiders are far more sinned 
against than sinning. It is true, of course, that 
spiders secrete a poison with which they kill their 
prey, but it does not follow that this venom 
would be harmful to man. Besides, spiders are 
timid by nature; their chief thought when cor¬ 
nered is escape, not fight. I have handled scores 
of them, and not one ever tried to bite me. Nor 
do I imagine one would unless it was pinched or 
tortured. They are not in the least vindictive 
like bees and wasps. In fact, it is pretty well- 
established now that we have only one spider in 
North America that is at all harmful. This is 



© International Newsreel 


A MONSTER SPIDER 










































A RACE OF TELEGRAPHERS 13 

the Black Widow, a coal black spider, with a red 
spot on its abdomen. It spins an irregular web 
of very coarse silk, so coarse in fact that its handi¬ 
work is easily recognized at a glance. Its retreat 
is located under chips and stones and in holes in 
the ground about outbuildings. It is one that 
I would advise leaving strictly alone. The In¬ 
dians of California, I am told, rank the Widow 
with the rattlesnake, and in the long ago used to 
make poisoned arrows by rubbing the tips with 
a mash made of these spiders. 

“ Zoologists designate the spider as 4 the class 
Arachnida,’ getting their hint for the nomencla¬ 
ture from the familiar old myth which relates how 
Arachne, the beautiful young weaver, because of 
her overbearing self-confidence and boastfulness, 
was changed by Juno into a spider, and doomed 
to spin forever near the haunts of man, getting 
her food as best she might from the skill of her 
snares. Certainly many of Arachne’s descend¬ 
ants show wondrous originality in their adapta¬ 
tions of the weaver’s art! Not all spiders, how¬ 
ever, in this day and age, catch their prey by 
means of webs. The wolf-spiders, for instance, 
stalk their prey and spring on it from ambush; 
others dig pitfalls or burrows; one species of this 
class has a cunning trap-door to its retreat, an¬ 
other builds a high turreted watch-tower. The 
lynx-spider comes out boldly in the open and 


14 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


chases its prey headlong over the grass and the 
leaves of trees and shrubs, being able to jump 
from branch to branch with great agility. Other 
spiders, the commensals, live in the snares of the 
large web-building species and feed upon the 
smaller entrapped insects which the owner of the 
web does not care for. I will tell you about some 
of these interesting spider brigands some other 
time, or perchance you may discover them for 
yourselves. 

“ Just now I want to speak of a spider whose 
silk surpasses that of the silkworm. It belongs 
to the genus Nephila , and one of these days its 
product will come into active competition with 
that of the world-famous spinners. In Madagas¬ 
car, where the species is common, the French 
have founded schools to teach the natives how to 
grow this spider, and to wind, spin, and weave 
the silk. Demonstrations of the various processes 
were given at the Paris Exposition, together with 
an exhibit of silken bed hangings woven from the 
remarkable material. Most astonishing of all is 
the method by which the silk from the Nepliila 
is obtained: in the case of silkworms, you know, 
the silk is unwound from the silken cocoons spun 
by the worms as they prepare for the pupa state. 
The silk of the Nephila is pulled directly from the 
body of the living spider. And the method is 
certainly most ingenious! A little stanchion is 


A RACE OF TELEGRAPHERS 15 

made to fit over the body of the spider so that it 
is held gently but firmly in such a manner that 
its legs cannot touch the thread of silk as it is 
spun. By lightly brushing the spinnerets a 
thread is started; this is grasped and pulled for¬ 
ward slowly and the little animal obligingly be¬ 
gins to spin. Silk is drawn from several spiders 
at the same time, and all are twisted by a me¬ 
chanical twister into a single thread of the 
strength desired before being passed on to the 
reel where it is wound.” 

“ Did you ever see the lattice spider, John? ” 
queried Auntie. “ I was reading about its odd 
little Oriental retreat just the other day. I’ve 
never noticed it here.” 

“ Because you didn’t look in the right place, 
probably,” her brother returned smilingly. “ I’ll 
venture there are plenty of them right in the ivy 
that climbs up to encircle your windows. Just 
as you peer out from your retreat, so do they 
from behind their lattices! They are fond of an 
osage orange hedge, too; in fact of any dense foli¬ 
age.” 

“ Tell us about them, please,” begged Tommy, 
“ and presently I’ll go and see if I can find 
any.” 

“ Well,” began Uncle John, in response to a 
nod and gesture from Auntie shouldering on him 
her share of the responsibility, “ in the first place 


16 ' NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 

the spider itself is a decidedly beautiful little 
creature. It-” 

“ A beautiful spider! The idea! ” said Alice 
laughing. 

“ ‘ Handsome is as handsome does,’ missy,” de¬ 
fended Tommy, quickly. “ Go on, Uncle John.” 

“ —Has a variegated coat of white or light 
yellow, sometimes becomingly flecked with pink 
or purple,” Uncle John continued quietly, finish¬ 
ing his sentence exactly as though he had not 
been interrupted, though his eyes twinkled. “ It 
is a large spider, about one-fourth of an inch long. 
Its legs are yellow, shading to orange and brown¬ 
ish tints. It has a wide round abdomen, marked 
with a dark stripe or row of dark spots on each 
side. But it is not the spider that attracts at¬ 
tention so much as it is his novel quarters. His 
web is an oblong orb, with a meshed hub, and 
there is a wide free zone , that is a place where 
the meshes are lacking—a sort of open window, 
if you please, through which it is hoped the un¬ 
wary insect will be tempted to enter. Usually 
there are two drag-lines leading back to the re¬ 
treat. And a decidedly snug and safe little place 
this is! A leaf, or possibly two leaves, are drawn 
together to form a little tent, beneath which 
hangs a silken tube one inch or more in length 
and half as wide, woven in an ingenious lattice- 
work pattern which allows the spider to peer out 





© Paul G. Howes 

SIDE VIEW OF COMMON SPIDER 



© Paul G. Howes 


COMMON SPIDER WITH HER YOUNG 






A RACE OF TELEGRAPHERS IT 

at the world about it. Smaller species of the 
lattice spider are often found in the foliage of 
trees. They are especially fond of placing their 
small orbs between two lobes of an oak leaf, with 
their tiny silken latticed tubes suspended from 
another part of the same leaf under a little tent 
formed of lobes.” 

“ Another odd spider mentioned in the article 
I spoke of,” said Auntie, “ was the ‘ medicinal 
spider/ I suppose we have it for a neighbor, 
too, John? It is a stout, short-legged, oddly- 
marked gray spider, which lives among rocks, 
hollow stumps, and decaying trees. Its snare is 
a sheet web, with a funnel-like retreat. Time was 
w r hen physicians counted on this web as a narcotic 
for use in time of fevers.” 

“ There are spiders and spiders,” resumed 
Uncle John. “We could write a whole book 
about them and still leave much unsaid. One of 
the first things you will observe about these little 
craftsmen is that spiders, like birds, are carefully 
clothed in protective or defensive colors. Nature 
has made them harmonize so well with their back¬ 
ground, that they cannot be readily seen, either 
by their enemies or by their prey. A species of 
the crab-spider clan has this adaptive faculty 
worked out to a fine point. It actually changes 
its color to harmonize with its background! But 
then crab-spiders are an odd lot. You will read- 


18 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


ily recognize one from its broad, stubby crab-like 
characteristics, and the fact that it advances side- 
wise with great dexterity, making much swifter 
speed in this hitching fashion than it can either 
forwards or backwards. Crab-spiders weave no 
snares. Some run down their prey, but most of 
them prefer to ambush it. Their favorite place 
of concealment is in the heart of a flower; hence 
most of them are of brilliant colors, the better to 
conceal their identity from the insects which come 
nectar hunting. The changeable fellow I men¬ 
tioned, the past-master of the lot, usually parks 
in the white Trillium, the fleabane, and other 
white flowers in early spring; at this season its 
ground color is white. In short, it harmonizes in 
color and markings with its surroundings. In the 
fall, the colony migrates to the goldenrod, and, 
as has been proven time and again, in a week or 
ten days these white spiders turn to a yellow so 
nearly matching their host that it takes a sharp 
eye to detect the motionless spider against the 
goldenrod. 

“ Interesting as are the various spiders and 
their webs, a spider’s nursery surpasses all. 
Moreover, each species constructs its egg-sacs, as 
the nurseries are termed, according to a definite 
pattern; so that it is even easier to name the 
nurseries than it is to name the spiders them¬ 
selves. The simplest kind of an egg-sac is 


A RACE OF TELEGRAPHERS 19 

merely a mesh of threads, which holds the eggs 
together but does not conceal them; the cave spi¬ 
ders build such nurseries, so do the shamrock spi¬ 
ders—both interesting species, by the way. Next 
to these come the fluffy masses of silk which ef¬ 
fectually hide the eggs but follow no particular 
form; this is the design preferred by our common 
house spiders. Then follows a wide range of 
clever silk-fashioned shapes, most of which are 
further safeguarded by an opaque covering, or 
by the addition of layers of foreign substance. 
The egg-sac of Madame Miranda, the orange 
garden spider, you remember, is enclosed in a 
brown pear-shaped sac. On being opened, a sec¬ 
ond covering of thick flossy silk is exposed, and 
this in turn yields up a dainty silken cup filled 
with eggs. A cousin of Madame Miranda’s, the 
banded garden spider, builds a cup-shaped 
nursery, with a flat top. A commensal spider 
commonly found in the webs of the garden spider 
clan puts her eggs in a dainty Grecian vase and 
suspends it from the web by a thin rope of silk. 
The grass-spider covers its egg-sacs with bits of 
bark and moss; another spider decorates its sac 
with tufts of different colored silk; and yet an¬ 
other with strong mason instincts plasters its 
silken nursery all over with mud and tucks it 
under a chip or stone, making it fast to its moor¬ 
ings with a strong thread. A certain California 


20 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 

spider follows the thatch idea: she fashions a se¬ 
ries of little egg-filled discs and laps them one 
upon another, binding them fast with silken cords. 
When a string is completed, the ingenious little 
mother spins a silken tube down along its length 
for her own occupancy, and covers the whole with 
a tent of leaves. Another tube-loving spider, 
which is usually found in grass marshes and 
among cat-tail flags, builds a long three-sided 
nursery by folding over a broad blade of grass or 
flag, and lining it with a tubular case, which 
serves not only as a container for her egg-sac but 
as her own coffin. 

“ Most of the spiders I have spoken of die 
shortly after their egg cases are completed, and 
a perfectly dreadful time the little spiderlings 
have eating one another, until spring comes and 
the few robust fellows that are left break through 
the old storm-tattered case. Probably in a well- 
filled sac of eggs, not more than ten or a dozen 
spiderlings ever manage to get out into the big, 
wide world! Other spider mothers, however, live 
to guard their homes and to rear up the little 
spiderlings in the way they should go. Some of 
these little mothers are so devoted they never 
leave their egg-sacs out of sight an instant. In¬ 
deed, the majority of them will not budge an inch 
without packing the egg case along,—a real bur¬ 
den this often is, too. The first day off that I 


A RACE OF TELEGRAPHERS 21 


have we will go prospecting for some of these in¬ 
teresting individuals. I want you to know them 
at first hand. \ 

“ As the spider clans are entirely meat eaters, 
they serve among Nature’s most faithful allies in 
keeping in check the harmful insect hordes. 
Like a cat, they have nine lives, and it takes a 
good deal to put them out of business! They 
can stand any amount of fasting and privation. 
Indeed, there is an instance recorded of a female 
spider having lived for eighteen months in a 
tightly corked vial! If the spider loses a leg or 
an arm, it promptly produces a bud on the scar 
left by the wound, and grows a new appendage 
that is capable of doing every bit as good service 
as the part lost! ” 


TINY BUILDERS OF A GREAT 

NATION 

“Auntie! Uncle John! Everybody!” 
Tommy called excitedly. “ Do come here a mo¬ 
ment. Here’s the funniest sight you ever saw in 
all your life! ” 

And it undoubtedly was. A measuring-worm 
had set out to find the length of one of the long 
cement flower-box ledges in the sun parlor. His 
clumsy efforts had attracted a bevy of young 
merrymakers, some half dozen or more small red 
ants, and these boisterous fellows were hilariously 
“ making the arch ” every time the awkward 
worm lifted its body. How they crowded one 
another, scampering helter-skelter through to the 
other side, and then waiting their chance to dash 
back again! One just knew they were fairly 
breathless with laughter as they waited! And, 
too, it was plain that they were passing remarks 
over the inchworm’s painstaking, laborious ef¬ 
forts to be altogether exact. 

The Daytons watched delightedly, until the 
inchworm had satisfied itself as to how much 
longer than its body the ledge was, and had gone 

to conduct measurements elsewhere, and the ants 

22 



NEST OF THE MOUND BUILDING ANT 













































/ 



















TINY BUILDERS 


23 


had each taken their separate ways, no doubt all 
the more ready to work after their brief play. 

“ Well,” observed Mabel, then, with an odd 
little murmur of satisfaction, “ who says that ants 
don’t know that ‘ All work and no play makes 
Jack a dull boy’? It’s a wonder you didn’t 
frighten them though, Tommy; they must have 
heard you clear down to Blake’s.” 

“ Stuff! ” scoffed Tommy. “ Ants are deaf as 
posts, at least to the kind of sounds we hear. 
Though I read the other day that they do have 
an organ of hearing, and that scientists think 
they make sounds which are inaudible to us, but 
which serve to carry on a language between them. 
Edison is quoted as saying that some day the 
radio amplifier will be developed until we shall 
be able to hear ants talk, if they do talk.” 

“ We can be very sure of that,” Uncle John 
confirmed, seating himself so evidently prepared 
to go deeper into the subject, that Auntie and the 
children—all the members of the family at home 
at the time—grouped themselves restfully, eager 
to listen. “ Ants could scarcely carry on their 
extensive community organizations without some 
means of understanding one another. For all are 
tiny builders of Liliputian kingdoms, you know. 
No doubt you boys know this moment where 
there is a thriving city of black ants, and another 
of big red citizens, not to mention various colonies 



24 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 

of little red fellows such as those which hurried 
away just now. Perchance, too, you may know 

a great brotherhood of brown ants-” 

“ To be sure,” interjected Tommy, “ there’s a 
new colony being established down by the wood 
lot; they are building roads ’n’ everything! ” 

“ Then you know something about ant indus¬ 
try,” smiled Uncle John. “ Red, black, or brown 
each one is a towering monument of persever¬ 
ance. And they work together each for all with¬ 
out the slightest hint of confusion. Just as we 
do in our home life, each has its own special work 
to do, and there is no place for the slacker. The 
useless old males are promptly killed off and 
trundled to the rubbish heap.” 

“ I wonder, Uncle John, did you know there 
were brick-makers among them? ” queried 
Tommy, breathlessly. “ I couldn’t hardly be¬ 
lieve my eyes when I saw them at it yesterday. 
But, sure as anything, a band of laborers came 
scrambling up on a little mound of clay that had 
been heaped outside their city—clay that I’m 
pretty sure must have come from the storm cellar 
Mr. Blake has been digging. There’s none like 
it on our farm. I was sitting close by, and as I 
had been there quiet for a long time, most likely 
they thought I was a scarecrow or something of 
the sort. Anyway they never paid any attention 
to me, and I wish you could have seen their brick- 




TINY BUILDERS 


25 


machines get into operation! Each little work¬ 
man simply took up a bit of the moist clay and 
moulded it into a sticky little ball or ‘ pellet’ by 
chewing it. As fast as each brick was finished, 
the workman set it on end to dry in the sun. Be¬ 
ing so tiny the bricks seemed to harden in no 
time, and a small army of workmen were soon 
busy carrying them to their ant-hill. But what I 
couldn’t make out was, what use the little crea¬ 
tures had for the bricks? ” 

“ They are used for the walls and partitions 
and even the roof of their underground apart¬ 
ments,” returned Uncle John. “ You know the 
real home of the ants is not in the hill itself, but 
in little tunnels and chambers beneath it. The 
entrance is a curious tunnel shaped like a funnel. 
We will go out there after a while and pry into 
matters with the glass. If the work has not 
progressed too far, I am sure we shall be able to 
see the little fellows laboring with the utmost care 
and precision to shape things just right. Damp 
clay, mixed with saliva, furnishes the mortar, and 
this is brought up by the most punctual of hod 
carriers. Instead of the trowel and mortar board 
which human bricklayers use, the little ant work¬ 
man has its strong jaws, its arms or feelers, and 
its legs. But these ‘ tools ’ are quite equal to the 
task, and the bricklayers follow fast on the heels 
of the excavators. 


26 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


“ By the way, I suppose you have all seen the 
little trench diggers at work? No? Then you 
must watch out for this interesting sight: each 
one scoops the earth on its back and head, and 
then, with a quick movement, sends it flying out 
over the edge. Here it is heaped and rounded 
by other workers, and thus the hill itself grows 
apace. 

“ It takes a special class of workers to lay the 
bricks in the arched ceilings of the underground 
apartments, and only the very best bricklayers 
are entrusted with the job. Here, too, a special 
plaster must be used. It is made from spiders’ 
webs and wood dust, carefully mixed with saliva. 
The combination forms an exceptionally gummy 
mass, absolutely water-proof. But think how 
prosaic must be the job of this painstaking brick¬ 
laying in comparison to the adventures which are 
the part of the little ants who go scouting for the 
spiders’ webs that are used. What strategy they 
needs must use to steal their supply of webbing 
without themselves being caught in the clever 
traps which the webs form! Again, think of the 
duels these scouts must often wage with foragers 
of another clan, who seek to capture what they 
need rather than to go searching for it! ” 

“ Now I wonder,” Alice exclaimed, “ is that 
what it was all about! Last evening, when I was 
picking raspberries for tea, a party of big black 


TINY BUILDERS 


27 


ants came hurrying down between two spinach 
rows. Just as they got opposite my bush, they 
were set upon by a group of red ants of about the 
same size. They had it hot and heavy for a few 
minutes. Shortly it seemed that the robber horde 
was being worsted, and a half dozen or more of 
the blacks hurried away, leaving their comrades 
to finish the fight; then, what do you think, the 
reds rallied and killed the few blacks that were 
left and carried them away.” 

“ Such doings are an everyday occurrence in 
the ant world,” Uncle John assured. “ Plainly 
the first party was a band of heavily laden scouts; 
they no doubt carried webs or clay or perchance 
food of some kind. And they seized the first op¬ 
portunity to get away safe with their plunder. 
To the ants nothing matters but the common 
cause. Individual life is not worth a copper! 
Indeed, if a hunting party comes upon one of 
their number hard beset, they make haste always 
to seize the bone of contention and make off with 
it, but they evince no concern whatever over the 
fate of their comrade. Like the frontier woman 
who stood watching her husband wrestling with 
a bear, they don’t care a cent which whips! It is 
the bit of food or material needed by the common 
brotherhood that counts. 

“ Ants are vicious fighters; neither party ever 
cries for quarter, and the duel is usually to the 


28 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


death of the weaker, unless Chance sends a com¬ 
rade to snatch and make away with the cause of 
the trouble. Frequently this ends matters, for 
the ants’ concern is not really for themselves, you 
know, but for the cause they serve. Ants from 
the same colony never quarrel. Two scouts on 
meeting always cross antennae, the object being, 
of course, to establish their identity, which scien¬ 
tists claim is accomplished by smell. If of the 
same clan, each goes her way after the brief in¬ 
quiry; if not, there is quite likely to be a serious 
scrap, that is, if either one bears a bit of proven¬ 
der. Not infrequently two whole colonies en¬ 
gage in battle, and the victors force their oppo¬ 
nents to be their slaves henceforth.” 

“ Ants and bees are cousins, aren’t they,” 
queried Mabel, “ and have much the same family 
life? ” 

“ Yes. But there is this difference: Ants 
marry for life, and after the marriage flight is 
taken the royal pair tear off their wings. They 
will never leave their home again alive. The 
workers, of course, are wingless. And, in addi¬ 
tion to the workers, the ant colonies are supplied 
with a band of soldiers. These fellows may be 
distinguished by their larger size, and by their 
great head and powerful jaws. They are usually 
to be found on guard about their city, and nearly 
always a certain number accompany the large 



© International Newsreel 


A MONUMENT TO THE INDUSTRY OF THE ANT 



© Paul G. Howes 


THE CARPENTER ANT 














TINY BUILDERS 


29 


carrying parties. But never do they stoop to 
carry a load, or even so much as lend a hand in 
an emergency. However, if an enemy of any 
kind appears, they at once show their worth, and, 
too, when there is game that is hard to kill, they 
seem to take special pleasure in dispatching it. 
Some colonies have two sizes of workers, one 
large and the other small, and each does the tasks 
best assorted to their stature. The wonderful 
thing about the whole matter is that the queen 
mother either has the power to lay at will the 
various kinds of eggs to produce the different 
creatures in her kingdom; or else, if the eggs are 
all alike, the nurses have wisdom enough to care 
for and feed the progeny in such a way as to 
produce the different kinds—workers, soldiers, 
and once a year a family of princes and prin¬ 
cesses. Some scientists claim it is one way and 
some another; but the truth is, the problem must 
probably remain one of Nature’s secrets. 

“ Ants follow the pursuits of man very closely. 
Nearly all the trades and occupations and not a 
few of the professions are represented in their 
kingdoms. Ants are especially capable farmers. 
A kind of seed called ant rice is their crop. It is 
grown in a field ten or twelve feet square, which 
is marked out around the nest. Some say that 
the little farmers do not know enough to sow the 
seed. They merely stake out their farms where 


30 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


there is an abundance of this crop growing. But, 
however it be, they promptly cut out all grass and 
weeds, and their field is kept so carefully culti¬ 
vated that many a farmer of our race might well 
get some valuable pointers from these little ant 
agriculturists. When harvest time arrives, the 
little creatures go about the job most sensibly. 
The ant never stores awav an unsound seed. 
Each one is carefully weighed and considered and 
only those which pass their rigid tests are carried 
to the granaries underground. If their own fields 
do not fill the bins to bursting, the ants go out 
into the highways and byways to garner grain, 
gathering the seeds of various grasses, and alas! 
some of the grain from the fields of man’s sowing. 

“ Some people claim that the agricultural ants 
also dry and store up meat for winter use, but 
this has not been altogether proven. Sir John 
Lubbock found that in one large colony more 
than 100,000 caterpillars and small insects were 
brought in during a single day. Surely this num¬ 
ber was far beyond the amount needed for im¬ 
mediate consumption! What more probable than 
that these thriftv little creatures had in mind the 
winter’s needs? King Solomon evidently thought 
so; remember his admonishment, 4 Go to the ant, 
thou sluggard, consider her ways, and be wise,’ 
which having 4 no guide, overseer, or ruler, pro- 
videth her meat in the summer, and gathereth 


TINY? BUILDERS 


31 


her food in the harvest.’ Surely we can believe 
almost anything of a little creature that is wise 
enough to store grain in the ground so that it 
neither rots nor germinates! 

“ Almost as clever as the agriculturist ants are 
the little gardeners which grow mushrooms. 
These enterprising little people are the parasol 
ants of tropical countries. To be sure, the mush¬ 
rooms which they grow are not the kind pre¬ 
ferred by man. They are a sort of spongy mold 
growth, ant mushrooms y if you please, and the 
little creatures are so fond of them that they will 
sacrifice their lives to protect their mushroom 
beds, which are made in numerous little tunnel- 
connected underground chambers, about the size 
of a man’s head. The fertilizer for these beds is 
composed of leaves specially treated, and it is 
from their manner of carrying parasol-style the 
bits of leaves which they cut from the trees that 
the little creatures get their name of parasol ant. 
But alas! often in their zeal to stock their beds 
these ants quite strip a tree; so that their presence 
in a neighborhood is a menace. 

“ Among the parasol ants, as in all colonies of 
the insect world, there is a careful division of 
labor. The ants which do the carrying do not 
make the beds. This work is in charge of ex¬ 
perts. First the bits of leaves go to the leaf- 
cutters who cut them into tiny fragments. A 


32 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 

second band gives each piece a thorough wash¬ 
ing and cleansing, by carefully licking it all over 
on both sides. Then the pellet-makers tackle the 
job, and the fragments are chewed and rolled 
into small balls, after which they are carried to 
the gardens by another force and pressed care¬ 
fully into the surface of the mushroom beds. If 
it is a new bed, no doubt mushroom spawn is 
then scattered; in the case of rebuilding old beds, 
enough spores probably remain to start the new 
growth. In either case, it is only a few days until 
the little leaf pellets are covered with a fine growth 
of white fungus threads, which flourish freely so 
long as the mass beneath remains light and 
spongy. When a mushroom bed becomes too ex¬ 
hausted to furnish further food for the ant hosts, 
the little creatures turn their cattle in to clean up 
the rubbish. These cattle are a special kind of 
beetle, which the ants lick carefully, getting 
something akin to milk which the beetles secrete. 

“ All ant colonies keep cows. Rut it is the 
aphis, or plant louse, that is considered the true 
milch cow of these intelligent little people. It 
gives a sort of honey-dew which is much relished 
by the ants, and the little creatures have proven 
themselves very shrewd dairymaids. They not 
only raise and care for their cows, often carrying 
them bodily from one pasture to another, but 
they drive away their natural enemies and pro- 


TINY BUILDERS 


33 


tect them in every way possible. More than this, 
each race of ants seems to prefer a certain breed 
of cows. The big black ants, for instance, have 
green cows which they pasture on the leaves of 
the red maple or the box-elder. The small black 
ants of the cornfields keep a grayish-white cow, 
which feeds on the corn rootlets, so voraciously 
sometimes as to do great damage to the fields. 
The big red ants herd their bluish-gray cows 
around the roots of the apple tree. The brown 
ants keep their cows on the tall grass which is 
always to be found growing near their cities. 
Not only do the ants seem to know just what 
food each breed of cattle requires, but some folks 
think that each ant has its own private cow! Al¬ 
ways, wherever the cows are kept, herders are 
stationed to guard them, and not only do they 
drive away any prowling creatures, but often 
they build cowsheds of earth over the drove for 
their further protection. 

“ The yellow meadow ants seems to run genu¬ 
ine dairy farms. It is said that they often have 
four or five different breeds of aphids under their 
protection. In winter, their cattle are carefully 
transferred to underground stables. More than 
this, these skillful little people painstakingly 
gather up all the aphid eggs they can find in the 
fall, and treasure them carefully in a nursery 
built for this purpose. The eggs are turned and 


34 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


tended each day, until they hatch in early spring 
time, when the ‘ calves 9 are brought up and 
turned out to pasture on the particular foliage 
which each species requires.” 

“ I was reading something about that very 
point just the other day,” Auntie observed. “ It 
seems that a noted scientist had tried in vain to 
rear a drove of aphids from some odd black eggs 
he had discovered. He succeeded in hatching the 
young all right, but they would eat nothing he 
brought them, and finally starved to death. So, 
having the good fortune to come upon some more 
of the eggs later in the season, he wisely carried 
them down to the yellow meadow ants. These 
little people apparently accepted the offering in 
great glee, and lost no time carrying the eggs 
below. Days and months passed, and then came 
the time for the annual spring pasturing of the 
young aphids. The scientist watched carefully, 
but he saw no young calves resembling the ones 
he had lost, and finally he concluded the ants had 
been as unsuccessful as he. He was on his way 
back to his laboratory, trying to forget his dis¬ 
appointment, when he stumbled upon an ant 
cowshed strongly built and double guarded. 
Evidently here was a special prize herd. On ex¬ 
amination, what should he find but the very calves 
he had longed for, feeding contentedly upon the 
foliage of a daisy plant and apparently thriving 


TINY BUILDERS 


35 


heartily. The good man was amazed; for never 
before had he seen the ants using this plant as a 
feeding ground. It was proof positive that the 
little dairy farmers certainly knew their busi¬ 
ness ! ” 

“ We might talk all day about ants,” said 
Uncle John, “ and then not finish the subject. 
But there is one thing more that must be added: 
do you know that many ants keep pets? Tiny 
house ‘ dogs ’ and ‘ cats/ mostly of the beetle clan, 
which frolic and gambol about their owner in the 
most playful manner imaginary? Odd, isn’t it! ” 


SOME CLEVER WEAVERS 


“ Talking about Nature’s craftsmen,” ob¬ 
served Mabel, tossing aside her big sun hat and 
joining the porch group sociably with her em¬ 
broidery in hand, “ I have just been watching 
Madam Baltimore Oriole at work upon her 
swinging cradle. You know Tommy located the 
nest yesterday in the big elm by the garden gate. 
And surely nowhere is there a more clever artisan, 
not even excepting Arachne’s most talented de¬ 
scendants! Who would ever dream that a little 
bird could make such a home with her bill—slen¬ 
der and needle-like though it is? Why, there isn’t 
a man or a woman in the whole country who 
could do such a thing with only one tool! The 
nest is going to be a veritable triumph of weaver’s 
art. It looks like a miniature nose-bag such as 
teamsters use for their horses. It is made of 
plant fiber and carefully lined with down and 
wool. I saw her bringing wool from the pas¬ 
ture.” 

“ Where was Peter? ” interjected Max. 
“ Wasn’t he helping? ” 

“ Not unless we give him credit for supplying 

36 



SOME CLEVER WEAVERS 37 

inspiration,” laughed Mabel. “ Indeed, his gay, 
high-whistled notes fairly bubbled over one an¬ 
other all the time, but to me it sounded sus¬ 
piciously like he was trilling a rollicking, self- 
congratulatory sort of chant: 4 Let the women do 
the work! Let the women do the work!’ His 
wife didn’t seem to mind, though. I rather fancy 
she was so interested in her intricate pattern that 
she never even heard him! Round and round 
she went, painstakingly weaving in material to 
make her clever little cradle warm and strong, all 
the time clinging to the nest with her feet, and 
working from below, poking the thread up and 
pulling it down through the width of two or three 
rounds in order to make it solid. Grasses, strings 
and horsehair seemed to be what she was using 
for the outside, all woven and blended together 
in the most wonderful fashion. You would never 
think a little bird could do such nice work! I 
don’t know when I have been so interested. Just 
imagine being a baby oriole and swinging high 
up in the elm tree, in that odd hanging pocket, to 
the tune of the old Wind’s low-murmured 4 Rock- 
a-bye, baby, in the tree top! ’ ” 

'* Peter! Peter! Clara Peter !" The reply, 
or the interruption, however one chose to take it, 
was the Baltimore oriole’s own contribution. He 
had settled all unnoted in the tip-top of a lilac 
bush close by, and his words gained immediate 


38 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


attention. For those on the porch turned to him 
gladly, and a general smile went round when 
Max translated the high-whistled notes which fol¬ 
lowed as, “ Little boy, you better look out! Lit¬ 
tle boy, you better look out! ” 

And then the lad shook a chubby fist at the 
bird: “ Don’t you go mistaking me for a cradle 
snatcher, Mr. Peter,” he admonished laughingly. 
“ You are a sorry husband, sporting about here 
and there, and leaving all the home building to 
your gentle little olive-clad mate. You’d best 
sing out your name a little louder. Mrs. Clara 
Peter will think you are gone for good, and take 
that dashing cavalier that was whistling around 
here yesterday.” 

Mayhap the well-groomed black-and-orange 
clad fellow held that “ A hint to the wise is suffi¬ 
cient ”; at any rate, he was away instantly—a 
flash of fire through the air, while in the wake of 
the “ feathered meteor ” floated a volley of gay, 
high-whistled notes. 

“ The darling! ” murmured Auntie, apprecia¬ 
tively. “ I’m sure I love the Baltimore oriole 
more than any of our bird friends. He is so 
human . One can get almost anything out of his 
notes—sympathy, humor, admonition. Hand me 
that book, Alice, please. There are some lines 
on the oriole that I am sure you will all ap¬ 
preciate: 


SOME CLEVER WEAVERS 39 


“ 6 How falls it, oriole, thou hast come to fly 
In tropic splendor through our Northern sky? 

At some glad moment was it Nature’s choice 
To dower a scrap of sunset with a voice? 

Or did some orange tulip, flaked with black, 

In some forgotten garden, ages back, 

Yearning toward Heaven until its wish was heard, 
Desire unspeakably to be a bird? ’ ” 

—Edgar Fawcett. 

“ The orchard oriole is another clever little 
weaver,” Uncle John informed. “ She cannot 
equal her cousin Baltimore in craftsmanship, but 
yet she does very neat work. Her nest is never a 
swinging cradle; just a plain cup-like nest, of 
modest basket-work, placed securely in the fork 
of an apple tree. But the dried grasses are 
chosen with great care, and the strands, when 
unraveled and measured, have been found to be 
of almost equal length. So you see this little 
weaver is very skilful, and knows just the care 
and precision necessary to get the best results. 
You would enjoy watching her at work. But 
you will have to look sharp to catch her at it. 
She is even more demurely dressed than Mrs. 
Baltimore and shy to a degree that almost bor¬ 
ders on the recluse. Her husband, too, is more 
apt to be heard than seen. His voice is high and 
rich and full of a joyful brilliance that Bur¬ 
roughs says is like scarlet. He is clothed in rich 
velvety wine-red, where the Baltimore wears or- 


40 


NATURE'S CRAFTSMEN 


ange. There are not many pairs of these indus¬ 
trious orchard friends in these parts, worse luck, 
for man has no better friends. 

“ The past-masters of the weaver’s art in Bird- 
dom, however, are not the orioles, incomparable 
as their work may seem. The palm goes to a 
species found in the tropical country called the 
weaver birds, and there are some three hundred 
or more members of the clan. Naturally among 
such a large host we must expect to find a wide 
variety of nests, varying in shape according to the 
birds’ individual tastes, and woven of fine 
branches, roots, or grasses in accommodation to 
circumstance. The most common form is that of 
the pouch cradle, similar to our Mrs. Clara 
Peter’s. One species builds a kidney-shaped bag, 
with the entrance at the side; others prolong their 
pouches into tubes and enter from below. The 
yellow Baya weaver fashions a curious stocking¬ 
like nest, with the cradle or nest proper in the 
heel, and the entrance through the leg. Her 
cousin, the Mahali, constructs a bottle-shaped af¬ 
fair of reeds, that gives to her the common name 
of bottle bird. But the most wonderful nest of 
all is that fashioned by the various tribes of so¬ 
ciable weaver birds, who congregate in large 
numbers, often building as many as three hun¬ 
dred nests under one general roof. 

“ These sociable weaver birds are very remark- 


SOME CLEVER WEAVERS 41 

able workmen, and go about their labor with the 
utmost intelligence and skill. After selecting a 
lofty tree, with good screening foliage, in some 
retired and sheltered place, all hands get up the 
materials for nest building. Dry grasses, bits of 
twig, root fiber, and plant down are brought in 
and piled about on the ground in neat orderly 
piles, just as we would place our lumber, cement, 
and sand, if we were going to build a house. 
Moreover, like the true architects that they are, 
these little weavers first put up their framework 
and shingle their roof, so to speak. The tough¬ 
est and longest of their root fibers are selected and 
draped over the branches and made fast. These 
are the rafters, and when all are in place they are 
ingeniously woven and interwoven with fine 
grasses until a splendid, water-proof, umbrella¬ 
shaped roof is secured. Only the females work 
when it comes to the weaving; the men are too 
awkward and clumsy, I suspect, to be trusted 
with the delicate threads. They would be most 
certain to catch a toe-nail carelessly somewhere 
and undo the work of hours, perhaps past repair. 
It is safer not to have them on the scene. 

“ Once the roof is done, each little housewife 
fashions her own special nest pouch. These are 
made of much the same materials as were used in 
the roof construction, and are carefully woven 
fast to it, and lined with the softest plant down 


42 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


and fine grasses. So close are the nests hung 
under the roof that they are only separated from 
one another by their walls, and notwithstanding 
that to all appearance they are as near alike as 
peas in a pod, no little social weaver madam ever 
makes the mistake of entering her neighbor’s 
nest. Straight and true she flies to her own door 
on the brief occasions when she must be absent 
after the brooding begins. 

“ Weaver birds have a variety of colors: some 
of them are green; others are brown or gray, va¬ 
riously marked with white or yellow; still others 
are more gayly clad in crimson or in golden yel¬ 
low. No species is larger than our canaries, and 
all are cheery and good-humored, keeping up the 
liveliest kind of 4 conversation,’ even when the 
wearying business of brooding is in hand. If 
you ever have the opportunity of visiting a large 
museum, you must be sure to ask to see the nests 
of the weaver birds. No nest is ever used but 
one season, and it is a common practice to sus¬ 
pend the new nest from the old one. A certain 
Madagascar species, it is said, often makes as 
many as five nests in succession, one hanging to 
another. Not infrequently, so great is the weight 
attached as the years go on, that the roof gives 
way, and then, and usually not until then, do the 
little happy-go-luckies build a new umbrella. 
The thorny acacia is one of the favorite homes of 


SOME CLEVER WEAVERS 43 


these little people, and if the branch hangs out 
over the water so much the better, as they are 
thus more secure from predatory animals. 

“ The cheery little weavers are favorite cage 
birds in their locality, though it is their plumage 
and happy dispositions which commend them, as 
the majority have no wealth of song. Of these 
the wax-bills, with their coral-red, waxy beaks, 
and the Java sparrows or 4 paddy ’ birds, in their 
pleasing coats of pure white, or of purple-slate 
and black, are the most common. Another ex¬ 
tremely curious little weaver is known as the 
widow or 4 widdah 9 bird. Although it is no larger 
than a canary, it has a wonderful draped tail al¬ 
most a foot long. Originally the name 4 widdah 
bird ’ was applied to a Portuguese species, which 
was garbed almost entirely in black, the long 
draping suggesting a widow’s weeds. Tropical 
species of the male 4 widdahs 9 are often gayly 
decked out in colors rivaling the most gorgeous 
parrots, while their gift of song further makes 
them much prized as cage birds. 

44 You will find a plate of Pensile Yests of 
Birds in the encyclopedia. First of all is the odd 
little pocket of the Australian flowerpecker, a lit¬ 
tle bird that is a near kin to our black and white 
creepers. Its cradle does not differ greatly from 
that of the Baltimore oriole’s, save that it is closed 
at the top and the entrance is made through a lit- 


44 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


tie window in the side. Below this is a row of 
queer, gourd-shaped nests belonging to the 
crested caciques, some social South American 
cousins of the orioles. These clever weavers 
fashion their nests of grass and thin bark, often 
prolonging the gourd handle fully a yard in 
length, the better to protect the birdlings from 
monkeys and serpents. 

“Another interesting example is the nest of a 
European titmouse. It is woven in an odd sac- 
like shape, with a short tube for an entrance hall. 
Another pensile nest, which while not built by a 
weaver is of such ingenious craftsmanship as to 
command immediate attention, is the nest of 
the tailor bird, a little friend in feathers that is a 
familiar visitor about the lawns and gardens in 
India. The nest is a skilfully fashioned cup, 
which is held in place by neatly stitching two 
leaves together, usually with strands of thread. 

“ Then there is a beautifully-woven cup-like 
structure of bark and plant fiber fashioned by the 
red-eyed vireo or 4 preacher bird ’ as we com¬ 
monly call it. You have seen a specimen of this 
nest at first hand. Remember the one I sent to 
the college museum last fall? It was all deco¬ 
rated with wool, spider webs, and twine, and 
flaunted a gay ribbon banner, mute evidences of 
Madam Red-Eye’s artistic temperament. I’ve a 
general idea of where a vireo domicile is being es- 


SOME CLEVER WEAVERS 45 


tablished right now, and I am purposely leaving 
out all manner of things for its embellishment, 
but I’ve not much hopes of actually seeing the 
nest until the screening leaves have blown away 
at the call of Jack Frost. The site is in the very 
tip-top of one of the maples on the lawn, and Sir 
Red-Eye’s voice every time I approach gives me 
most plainly to understand that a close acquaint¬ 
ance is highly undesirable.” 


A FAMILY OF ROPE DANCERS 


“ I saw a funny thing as I was coming from 
school this evening,” Tommy volunteered, as the 
family sat on the porch in the gloaming. 
“ Farmer Blake’s lambs were having the time of 
their lives playing 4 Follow My Leader ’! He was 
the cutest little black-faced woolly specimen I’ve 
seen in many a day, and a race he led them for 
sure! Twice around the big rock, then up its 
sloping side, a jump off, and around again and 
again, and every little caper and antic he cut, so 
did all the others. It was too funny! I laughed 
till my sides fairly ached. Isn’t it queer anyway 
how sheep will always follow the first, whereso¬ 
ever it goes? ” 

44 It certainly is,” Auntie agreed heartily. 
44 But they have been at it since the beginning of 
time. You know the old tale of Farmer Ding- 
dong’s sheep, and how when a cruel trickster 
threw the old ram into the raging sea, all the 
others jumped in after him, one by one, and were 
drowned before a hand could be turned to pre¬ 
vent the foolish sacrifice.” 

There was a chuckle from Uncle John, as he 

46 


A FAMILY OF ROPE DANCERS 47 

laid aside the book he could no longer see to read, 
and came to sit beside the boy on the steps. 
“ I’ve just been reading about the ‘ sheep ’ of the 
insect world,” he said,—“ a curious band of pine 
caterpillars, which feed upon the true pines of the 
Old World. Fabre calls them a family of rope- 
dancers, because they walk a tight rope all their 
lives. Indeed, they can get about only on this 
rope, which is a sort of silken rail placed in posi¬ 
tion as the caterpillar goes. Their sheep-like 
propensities are shown by the fact that they al¬ 
ways march in single file, each one touching with 
its head the rear of the one just in front of it, and 
all following the wavy turns set by their leader 
with scrupulous care. Pine processionaries is 
another name given to these orderly little rope- 
walkers. Would you know their life story? ’Tis 
more interesting than many a fairy tale. 

“ It begins with the eggs laid by the pine moth. 
These are hidden away in a curious little golden- 
russet muff wrapped about the base of a whorl of 
pine needles. At first glance this muff has a 
silken appearance, but closer inspection shows 
that it is really covered with little scales, soft as 
velvet to the touch, which overlap one another to 
make a perfectly water-proof case. Clip away 
the scales, and lo! there is revealed a pearly little 
spike for all the world like a tiny cob of pop-corn. 
Each pearl is an egg, and the marvel is that an 


48 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


insect can execute anything so geometrically per¬ 
fect and regular. What law of beauty and order 
impels her to this matchless workmanship? 

“ The eggs hatch in September, and from each 
little muff comes three hundred or more tiny pale 
yellow caterpillars, with black heads almost twice 
as large as their bodies. Immediately they begin 
to feed upon the pine needles on which their nest 
was placed. These gone, instinct swings them 
promptly into line and the little processionists 
follow their leader in search of fresh pasture. As 
he goes, this little captain whom chance has thrust 
to the fore dribbles a tiny white thread from his 
mouth, and sticks it fast. Behind him the next 
one dribbles his thread and so doubles the slender 
rail that is yet so faint no eye can trace it; a third 
trebles it, and so on until all in the procession 
have added their bit, and there stands revealed in 
the wake of the passing van a fine white thread, 
which is no more nor less than a little silken tap¬ 
estried roadway which later serves as a guide rail 
to carry the little creatures back. For, when all 
have eaten their fill, they begin to think of slum¬ 
ber, and naturally the nest is the proper place for 
this business. So instinct again teaches them to 
fall into line; the leader after much blind reach¬ 
ing and hesitation feels beneath his lips the silken 
rail that marks the homeward path and makes 
haste along it, picking up silk as he goes. After 


A FAMILY OF ROPE DANCERS 49 

him comes the van, following his example with 
sheep-like accurac}^, and thus presently the home 
site is reached, and the tapestried road is no more. 

“ But the sleepy caterpillars cannot settle at 
once to rest, for there is no shelter. The scales of 
the muff which covered them were scattered to 
the four winds in their advent. What is to be 
done? ‘ Spin a tent! ’ whispers instinct, and the 
little caterpillars obediently set their spinnerets 
in motion. Shortly, by their combined efforts, 
they have made a little ball of gauze about the 
size of a hazelnut. It is securely fastened to a 
broad leaf, and offers a blessed haven for the time 
being. The tired little processionaries creep into 
it, doubtless with thankful hearts, and proceed to 
sleep straight round the clock, not even deigning 
to open their eyes—if the tiny specks on their 
black sealing-wax heads can be called eyes—until 
night is come again, and their clamoring stom¬ 
achs insist that food must be supplied. Then 
again instinct draws them up in a line outside, 
and the leader promptly starts on a tour of inves¬ 
tigation, dribbling his silken rope as he goes, and 
carefully followed by the whole sheep-like pro¬ 
cession of dribblers, who thus make sure a guid¬ 
ing line to direct their safe return from the laby¬ 
rinth which their uncertain needle-pasturage 
forms. ’Tis a wise provision. Theseus himself 
would have been lost in the mazes of Crete, you 


50 


NATURE S CRAFTSMEN 


remember, but for the clue of thread with which 
Ariadne supplied him. 

“ Do the processionaries return to the feeding- 
grounds of the night before? Hardly, since they 
cannot see, and the direction of their expedition is 
left entirely to the fickle vagaries of the groping 
wriggler at the head of the file. How does he 
manage to find pasture at all; can it be that he 
smells it? Fabre proved that this is not the 
case. A host of hungry caterpillars from his 
insectary passed close beside a pine branch, after 
long hours of fasting, without betraying any ea¬ 
gerness or showing even a desire to stop. No, 
they recognize food only by touch. So long as 
their lips do not actually brush against the pas¬ 
ture, they will proceed on in their wavy line. 

“Apropos, the old French naturalist once cut 
the tapestried way of a group of processionaries 
who had gone out to take an airing by marching 
round the rim of a flower-pot near their nest. 
And, what do you think? Cut off from their 
way of retreat, the stupid things fell to circum¬ 
navigating the pot, going round and round on 
their silken trail; not one of them, though they 
must have been nearly famished, ever guessing 
that a trick had been played, and making almost 
no effort to strike out in a new path. Only nine 
inches from home and food, there they kept up 
their ceaseless, nosing march, till the afternoon of 


<?> 







A FAMILY OF ROPE DANCERS 51 

the eighth day. Then a trail laid in the disorder 
of an especially cold night tempted one reckless, 
ravenous processionary from the straight and 
narrow way, and ultimately he led the file down 
the side of the pot to home and happiness. Fabre 
figured that they had walked for eighty-four 
hours, and had covered considerably over a quar¬ 
ter of a mile while traveling in a circle.” 

“ The little ninnies! ” ejaculated Alice. “ Do 
they ever lose their way entirely and come down 
to the ground in their search for food? ” 

“ No. Apparently the same wise Power 
guides them who teaches the birds their way 
along the ‘ pathless coasts of air.’ But they do 
come to the earth sometimes, venturing boldly 
abroad in the daytime. Moreover, according to 
Fabre, the trippers have nothing in mind but a 
little constitutional; albeit it is possible that they 
may be on a tour of inspection, looking for a suit¬ 
able sand location in which to bury themselves 
later on for their metamorphosis.” 

“And what about their tent? ” queried Tommy 
interestedly. “ Of course they must soon out¬ 
grow it?” 

“ To be sure,” returned Uncle John, promptly. 
“ I was coming to that. After each return from 
the refreshment table, the processionaries work a 
bit on their shelter before turning in. Sometimes 
it is after two o’clock before their 'All’s well!’ 


52 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 

sounds and they creep to bed. Thus, the tiny 
tent that was the size of a hazelnut in the begin¬ 
ning grows in two weeks to the size of an apple. 
If it has been well established in a central posi¬ 
tion, the processionaries may go on enlarging it 
into elaborate quarters. The chances are, how¬ 
ever, that they will pitch two or three tents before 
the approach of fall warns them that they must 
build a snug habitation for winter. This work is 
gone at with great ardor. A site in the very tip 
of the bough is selected, and here by weaving a 
network of silk about the leafy clump a structure 
is fashioned that is stout enough to defy the 
fiercest blasts of Boreas. When completed it is 
as large as a two-quart measure, and by creeping 
into the milk-white mattress in the center, com¬ 
posed of thick ropings of silk around a cluster of 
leaves, the little caterpillars can keep as snug as 
the proverbial bug in a rug. 

“ By this time, too, their own mother would 
never recognize the pine processionaries. For 
they have donned their winter garments—a plain 
little coat of whitish-yellow, with six funny little 
red patches on the back, surrounded with scarlet 
bristles. Set in the midst of each red patch are 
specks of gold which add not a little to their 
unique decorations. That the caterpillars are 
proud of their new wardrobe is very evident. 
There is a little veranda on the top of their house, 


A FAMILY OF ROPE DANCERS 53 

and here they may be found every pleasant day 
throughout the winter, lolling about and display¬ 
ing themselves, steeping in the heat of the sun, 
and occasionally wagging their heads to show 
their enjoyment. 

“Along in January a second change of dress is 
made. This is a plain utility suit, which pos¬ 
sesses one extremely handy feature. In a row 
down along the back are eight little mouth-like 
gashes which have inside them some odd swell¬ 
ings so sensitive that they record the changes of 
heat and cold. They are, in short, living barom¬ 
eters. By their aid the processionaries are en¬ 
abled to gauge accurately the weather, and thus 
do not venture forth in the teeth of piercing 
winds, storm and sleet, as they might otherwise 
do. They have been known to foretell a storm at 
least two days ahead. Fabre says that when his 
family had to go to town in winter to buy pro¬ 
visions, they always consulted the caterpillars, 
and according to what the little creatures did, 
they went or stayed at home. 

“ It is March before the processionaries leave 
their pine tree for their final journey abroad. 
They are now much faded as to coats, but their 
ability to follow grimly in a steady, unbroken 
procession still holds good, and they file away 
over the uneven ground. Their business is very 
important, and it takes no little patience on the 


54 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


part of man to await the issue. For, while they 
are only going a short distance by our standards, 
to the caterpillars the way seems long and toil¬ 
some, and it is perhaps a good two hours before 
they bring up at a spot where the soil is powdery 
and dry enough to make digging easy. Every 
now and then the caterpillar at the head of the 
row pauses and digs a little. The others wait in 
sublime trust; whatever his judgment, they will 
follow him implicitly. A half dozen or more 
trials may be made before the leader is satisfied, 
and settles down to real digging. Then the line 
breaks into a swarming heap, and shortly the cat¬ 
erpillar backs are joggling in unison, as their feet 
and jaws make the loose soil fly. Little by little 
each one ‘ digs himself in,’ and presently there is 
nothing to show of their presence but a little 
mole-like ridge rising and sinking, quivering with 
the haste of the eager burrowers; then all is still. 
The caterpillars are safe in their sand cradles, 
some two or three inches down, and after a short 
rest, will begin to wrap themselves in a cocoon. 

“ The latter part of July or August the pine 
moths come forth. They are delicate creatures 
with flimsy wings and great sweeping plumes: 
how do they ever manage to force their way out 
through the hard rain-washed, sun-baked soil, 
without utterly ruining their finery? ” 

“ I know,” cried Tommy, eagerly. “ I’ve seen 


A FAMILY OF ROPE DANCERS 55 

’em—not pine moths, of course, but other kinds. 
They have their fine garb all swaddled around 
them. The wings are tight against the breast, 
the plumes are folded down along the sides, and 
the hair fleece laid flat.” 

“Yes,” said Uncle John, “ the wings of the 
moth are not merely soft and folded, at emer¬ 
gence, as is commonly supposed. They are actu¬ 
ally undeveloped and grow in size in a very short 
time. I have a record of a polyphemus with 
wings only about one-half inch long when first 
observed, and each wing grew in thirty minutes 
to three and a half inches. You could actually 
see them grow. You see, the moth is just like a 
hard little cylinder, with a funny deep-ridged 
head, which she uses for a boring-tool. Not until 
she is free of the earth does she shake out her 
finery.” 

“ I have a lot of beautiful specimens in my col¬ 
lection,” said Tommy eagerly. “ I wonder if I 
could get hold of a pine moth? ” 

“ I doubt if you would prize her greatly,” 
Uncle John returned. “ She is not very gorgeous, 
being clad in plain gray, streaked with brown 
here and there. She has white under-wings, and 
a russet girdle covers her abdomen. The tip of 
her body is her only really remarkable feature. 
This shines like pale gold, and on examination 
proves to be covered with a fleece of russet-gold 


50 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


scales. Touch them ever so lightly and they fly 
off in a shower. Moreover, now we note that 
these scales are exactly like those with which the 
little pine muffs are thatched! Like the eider 
duck, the pine moth tears off her fluff to make a 
cozy nest for her babies.” 


INTERESTING TUNNEL BUILDERS 


“ Tabby brought in the queerest little animal 
a while ago,” observed Alice, as she came from 
hoeing in the rose garden, and seated herself on 
the steps beside Grandfather. “At first I 
thought it was a young rat, but it didn’t have any 
eyes worth talking about, and its head was longer 
and much more pointed, besides its front claws 
were fitted out with little spades like the moles 
have. But it wasn’t a mole, I’m sure of that. 
And it had a funny musky odor. Neither Tabby 
nor her kittens seemed to want to bite into it, 
though the kittens had a big frolic with it. I laid 
it up on a post intending to bring it in, but some 
way it disappeared.” 

“ I think Jim Crow could tell you where it 
went,” returned Grandfather, laughingly. “ He 
went cawing past here a few minutes ago in great 
glee. Tommy thought he had caught a mouse, 
and set off after him. I saw the lad headed for 
Daddy Thornton’s with Jim under his arm just 
as you came in the gate. You know Mr. Thorn¬ 
ton contends that crows are the greatest villains 

alive, and he and Tommy have a never-ending ar- 

57 


58 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN: 

gument about it. I suppose the boy thinks now 
he has some real proof of Jim’s usefulness. Ha! 
Ha!” 

“ Poor Tommy! ” said Alice, but she laughed 
too. “ Maybe Daddy Thornton will know what 
the creature is,” she suggested then. 

4 4 1 think I can set your mind at rest on that 
score,” Grandfather returned, removing his 
glasses to wipe away the mist his hearty laughter 
had called forth. 44 It was the short-tailed mole 
or shrew. There are some thirty-five species of 
shrews, I believe. Most of them grub about 
among the roots of herbage in the gardens, fields 
and woods, making runways beneath fallen leaves 
and hiding in old stumps and under rotting logs. 
They eat various insects, caterpillars, and earth¬ 
worms, and are useful aids for the gardener. The 
long-tailed shrew mouse which lives in the marsh 
is the nursery bugaboo of our dainty little song¬ 
sters, the marsh wrens. The mole shrew is the 
only one of the family that forces its way through 
the loose top-soil like a mole. He, too, does not 
hesitate to dine on birdlings. In spring, the 
males are particularly pugnacious, and often 
fight to the death. We may find the body of the 
vanquished one in the garden path, but we seldom 
stumble upon the contestants, as they are noc¬ 
turnal creatures, and do not usually venture far 
abroad until man is safe in bed. They form the 


TUNNEL BUILDERS 


59 


prey of weasels, hawks, and owls; the butcher 
bird, too, frequently hangs up a shrew pelt; and 
the house cats unhesitatingly pounce upon the 
unwary prowlers, but they will not eat the flesh, 
because of the musky odor which you noted. 
Moles and hedgehogs are close kin of the shrews.” 

“A mole has begun to throw up its galleries 
down in the pasture,” Alice informed. “ Ser¬ 
pentine figures, Uncle John calls their elevated 
tunnels. He and Tommy were holding high 
counsel over traps last evening.” 

“ Moles are unmitigated little nuisances,” 
averred Grandfather, stoutly, “ and yet not one 
of the little craftsmen you have all been inter¬ 
ested in lately can outdo a mole in zeal; weaver, 
mason, carpenter, what not, he is the greatest 
worker of them all. And with reason: he is com¬ 
pelled by stern necessity. His appetite is so 
enormous that he is incapable of undergoing even 
a slight fast. He lives almost entirely upon 
earthworms, and it is in search of this prey that 
he drives his long, zigzag tunnels. The depth at 
which he works depends upon the season. In 
spring, when there is plenty of moisture in the 
ground, the tunnels run along close to the sur¬ 
face, and it is then that our ire is roused. For 
besides marring the velvety smoothness of our 
lawns, the tunnels uproot and undermine our fa¬ 
vorite flowers and shrubs, and raise havoc gener- 


60 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


ally. Later in the season, when the drouths 
come on, the earthworms go deeper, and so do the 
moles. 

“ The mole’s ravenous appetite makes it an ex¬ 
cessive drinker. It must have water. For this 
reason, if there is a brook or stream in the vicin¬ 
ity, one of his galleries runs to it. If water is not 
to be had in this way, the clever little chap digs 
his own wells, here and there at convenient inter¬ 
vals in his subways. 

“ Some people claim that moles break their 
furious pace with rest, turn and turn about: thus 
three hours’ work, then three hours’ rest. I do 
not know about this, but I do know they are al¬ 
ways to be found hard at it about sun-up, again 
around eleven o’clock, about one o’clock p. m., 
and then in the evening about sunset. But you 
will need to approach with caution if you expect 
to catch one at work. The little creatures have no 
eyes worth mentioning; they have little use for 
sight in their darkened tunnels. But Nature has 
endowed them with a wonderful power of smell¬ 
ing and hearing. The least sound and not only 
do all motions cease, but the little worker, know¬ 
ing perhaps how well he merits punishment, dives 
at once into one of his winding galleries and hur¬ 
ries away. It is no trick to take one, if you can 
steal up unawares, armed with a trowel and a 
hoe. Stick the trowel into the passage just be- 


TUNNEL BUILDERS 


61 


hind him so that he cannot retreat, and dig him 
out with the hoe before he has time to think! I 
would rather trust to this method than to all the 
mole traps that were ever invented. 

“ Moles are good swimmers, and can pass from 
bank to bank, or from the shore to an island with 
the greatest ease. Each mole has its own habita¬ 
tion and its own hunting-grounds, and woe to the 
poor blunderer that ventures to trespass in 
strange precincts. For the mole is as furious at 
fighting as he is at working, and his teeth and 
claws are most formidable. In places where the 
moles are so plentiful as to have established a 
mole colony, there are certain underground high¬ 
ways which are common to all. And one general 
road law is most punctiliously observed: if two 
moles meet, the smaller one promptly retires into 
a gallery and lets the august one pass. In case 
two strong prideful knights meet, usually neither 
one will give an inch, and there is a fight to the 
death. 

“ The mole’s nest or home is very remarkable. 
The animal first throws up a mound of earth 
which it packs and presses firmly. Then a circu¬ 
lar gallery is run around close to the top of the 
mound. Some distance below a second and 
larger circular gallery is run, and the two subse¬ 
quently are connected by five straight passages. 
Next a central chamber is constructed between 


62 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


the two circular galleries, with openings into all 
the passages. Here the mole sleeps, and from 
this safety chamber he can escape at a moment’s 
warning. Food prospecting in seasons of drouth 
is carried on from the lower gallery, and in time 
passages branch and counter-branch from this in 
all directions. The young moles are brought 
forth in litters of four or five in the spring; some 
claim there is also a fall litter, but the point is de¬ 
batable. The young are not born in the central 
sleeping chamber, but in a special nursery which 
has been carefully lined with leaves and other 
warm materials especially for their coming. 

“ Moles are wonderfully adapted to their pe¬ 
culiar manner of life. Witness first their soft 
beautiful coats of fur, which are always smooth 
no matter in which direction they are brushed. 
This is very fortunate; if the mole’s fur ruffled 
up like some furs do, he would have all sorts of 
trouble in his tight-fitting passageways. Again, 
his spade-like paws are peculiarly fitted for shov¬ 
eling dirt. Each paw is composed of five fingers, 
which are armed with strong, sharp claws. The 
paws are turned outwardly so that the mole can 
toss the dirt to one side with little exertion. 
Moreover, as the creature must spend its life dig¬ 
ging, its strength is nearly all placed in its shoul¬ 
ders and paws, where it can be used to the last 
ounce. 


TUNNEL BUILDERS 


63 


“ Moles vary in color. Those we are familiar 
with are of the peculiar grayish-brown tint, rec¬ 
ognized everywhere as 4 moleskin.’ Black moles, 
however, are not uncommon; there is a white spe¬ 
cies, too, and the cape or golden mole is often of a 
decidedly orange hue. In Germany, the mole is 
termed the moltwerf: from the words molde , dirt, 
and werfen , to throw. It seems a happy combi¬ 
nation, for certainly nothing can throw dirt with 
greater zeal than the mole, unless perchance it 
may be the woodchuck.” 


A MARVELOUS MANUFACTURER 


“ No doubt you folks all remember our talk 
about the spiders some days ago,” Uncle John 
observed, as he rose from the table one Sunday, 
after lunch. “As soon as the dishes are washed, 
there will be an expedition down to the brook in 
the west marsh to pay our respects to a certain 
marvelous trap-maker and manufacturer that has 
taken lip her abode there; every one who has no 
previous engagement is invited to attend.” 

There was a chorus of delighted exclamations 
and the dishes began to disappear kitchenward 
with such alacrity that in an incredibly short 
time Uncle John, Alice, Tommy and Max, and 
little Ruth were off upon the two-mile hike. 

“ It is the banded spider we are going to see,” 
Uncle John informed them, as the party drew 
near the end of their journey. “ She is one of 
the handsomest members of the spider clan. Her 
fat little body is as large as a hazelnut, and she is 
adorned with alternate sashes or bands of yellow, 
black, and silver. Even her legs carry out the 
band idea, with their dark brown and pale brown 

rings. There! What do you think of that for a 

64 


A MANUFACTURER 


65 


hunting weapon? ” he ended triumphantly, as an 
abrupt turn in the path disclosed to view a large 
upright web, which spanned the little brooklet 
from bank to bank, being made strong and fast 
by secure moorings to the flags and rushes which 
overhung the stream on either side. 

“My word!” ejaculated Tommy in surprise. 
“ It might do for a tennis net in a pinch! What 
does the spider need of such an extensive affair? ” 

“ I think perhaps she is ambitious and loves a 
fine house,” Uncle John returned, “ though, of 
course, the larger the web the more sure she is of 
not having to go to bed supperless. At best, you 
know, the creatures who are foolish enough to 
rush pell-mell into a web must be rather few and 
far between.” 

“ Certainly she is an artisan of rare merit,” 
said Alice admiringly. “ Just see how symmet¬ 
rical and well proportioned her work is! The 
spokes spread out from the center like an extra 
stout wagon wheel, and the cords or cross-bars 
run around in an almost perfect spiral. And 
look at that thick, wide ribbon running zigzag 
across the spokes from the center toward the 
lower corner! I suppose that is her trade-mark, 
Uncle John? No doubt those queer little marks 
crisscrossed in the silk spell something in spider 
chirography. I wish we could read them! ” 

“ Very probably they stand for banded spider,” 


66 


NATURE'S CRAFTSMEN 


laughed Uncle John. “At any rate, no other 
spider uses a signature just like it. Madam Mi¬ 
randa, the orange garden spider, runs an odd 
staircase a little way straight up and straight 
down from the center of her large upright web. 
That is her signature. Other orb weavers also 
have their special way of signing their work. 

I- Wait a minute, Tommy! What is that 

you have? ” 

“A grasshopper, sir. It’s all right to offer to 
the banded lady for refreshments, isn’t it? ” 

“ By all means. Toss it squarely into the 
meshes toward the top of the net, and let us see 
what happens.” 

Seated motionless in the center of the web, 
with her eight legs widespread to feel even the 
tiniest vibration of her silken lines, the keeper 
was calmly waiting what Fortune might send, 
apparently entirely oblivious of the party a little 
way down the path. When the big grasshopper 
went whizzing dizzily from Tommy’s good base¬ 
ball arm, and landed with a resounding kerplunk 
that must have jangled her telegraph wires furi¬ 
ously, she started up with lightning-like agility 
and made for the scene of action at a great rate. 
But, ere she had quite reached the frantic, strug¬ 
gling grasshopper, which seemed to know full 
well its peril, she paused and promptly whirled 
about. What was the matter? Was she afraid 



67 


A MANUFACTURER 

to tackle the huge specimen? The children 
eyed her disappointedly. “ Coward! ” muttered 
Tommy, disgustedly, and was turning away. 
But Uncle John caught his arm. “ “Watch! ” he 
whispered tensely. 

And even as he spoke a curious thing hap¬ 
pened. The spider’s hind legs began to wave 
vigorously, and shortly they seemed enveloped in 
a rainbow-colored, fan-like sheet which grew 
apace, and was presently flung with surprising 
quickness and nicety over the writhing grasshop¬ 
per. With a quick movement of the long whirl¬ 
ing legs, the poor wretch was turned over and se¬ 
curely bound in the shimmering shroud. But not 
yet did the spinning operations cease; on and on 
went the waving legs flying their bright-hued 
sheet, and at the release of each armful, or rather 
“ legful,” a quick kick sent the victim turning 
over more firmly in its shroud. It was wonder¬ 
ful to watch, and the performance went on until 
it was quite apparent that the spider had used up 
all her silk. 

But the grasshopper still struggled. Feebly, 
’tis true; he was too tightly swaddled for any con¬ 
centrated effort. The spider faced him and 
stood patiently. Evidently she had every confi¬ 
dence in her methods, and she had not long to 
wait. Soon all motion ceased beneath the varie¬ 
gated shroud. Then the little murderess ad- 


68 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


vanced to put the finishing touches. Quickly she 
thrust her poisoned fangs in here and there, and 
then, after another interval, began quietly to 
“ bleed ” the corpse. This done, she was evi¬ 
dently quite satisfied for the moment; she would 
eat the meat at her leisure, and she proceeded to 
cut the meshes until the grasshopper hung to the 
web by its ropes, like a beef hung up to cool. 

“ If she has good luck in taking fresh catches,” 
Uncle John informed, “ she will never touch the 
grasshopper again. But instinct warns her to 
keep the carcass as a precautionary measure. I 
have been told that the good housekeepers among 
the spiders go over their webs each morning, cut¬ 
ting down all meat that is not perfectly fresh, and 
carefully mending the rents made in the trap.” 

Now that their attention had been called to the 
matter, the children noted other shrouded masses 
of various size hanging here and there about the 
web, and Tommy’s quick eyes soon spied a small 
spider apparently feeding upon one of these 
forms. “ Look,” he exclaimed, pointing it out 
excitedly, “ there is one of the lady’s children! ” 

“ Not at all,” averred Uncle John. “ It never 
does to jump to conclusions, my hoy. That 
spider is eveiy whit as old as my lady. She is a 
guest in the household, a pensioner on the banded 
spider’s bounty. A commensal spider she is 
called. That odd little vase-shaped sac just 


A MANUFACTURER 


69 


here,” and he went nearer, and pointed with his 
stick, “ is the egg pouch of the commensal. My 
lady does not suspend her egg-sac. Her babies 
spend the winter in their cradle; hence it must be 
placed where there is ample protection from the 
elements. She-” 

“ Ha! ” interrupted Tommy gleefully. “ She 
lets the commensals know their place, doesn’t she? 
Did you notice how fiercely she gestured toward 
that one which started up the web from those 
flags there at the left corner? Ah, the coward, 
look at him skedaddle! ” 

“ There you go judging from appearances 
again, Tommy,” his uncle admonished, laugh¬ 
ingly. “ I didn’t notice, but I have my suspi¬ 
cions. Wait a minute; he will be back. . . . 

There! ” A small spider, only about one-fifth as 
large as my lady, but banded in faint white and 
yellowish streaks, appeared at the moment and 
cautiously began to run out toward the keeper of 
the net; he was followed by another and yet an¬ 
other of the same general garb and air of timid¬ 
ity. But the advancing line did not get very far. 
No doubt my lady recognized their tread, for she 
turned with an imperious fling which very plainly 
said “ Get! ” And the poor fellows made haste 
to obey. 

“ Slaves, are they? ” queried Alice. “ She 
seems exceedingly high-mighty.” 



70 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


“ No, they are suitors,” advised Uncle John, 
“ and rather poor specimens when all is said. 
They are indifferent spinners, and too lazy to 
stay long in a house of their own building. They 
spend their time as pensioners like the commen¬ 
sals.—You will note, Tommy, that the two do not 
look anything alike.—By and by, our haughty 
Madam will give up looking for a specimen 
worthy of her, and accept one of them for her 
husband. But, poor chap, his joy is likely to be 
short. She is exceedingly notionate and hard to 
please; one false step and his life pays the forfeit! 

“ The female spiders are even more talented 
mothers than they are hunters and spinners, and 
the banded spider is no exception to the rule. 
When she gets ready to make her nest, my lady 
will abandon her web forever, and search out a 
nice warm sheltered place in a grassy hummock. 
The nest itself is far more of a marvel than the 
birds’ nests we were talking about the other day. 
It is about the size of a pigeon’s egg, and looks 
like a balloon turned upside down. The ‘ neck ’ 
is cut quite short, and crowned at the top with a 
curious little butter-bowl arrangement, with a 
scalloped rim, and the corners drawn out into 
moorings which hold it firmly attached to the 
grass of its shelter. A little silky padding covers 
the bowl. The rest of the nest is wrapped in a 
heavy covering of thick white satin, often curi- 


A MANUFACTURER 71 

ously adorned with ribbons, and embroidery de¬ 
signs done in black or brown. 

“ This satiny covering is perfectly water-proof, 
and as hard to puncture as parchment. But 
when once we do get our pocket-knife through it, 
and rip up the side, lo! beneath it we find another 
silken wrapping, this time of a reddish hue, and 
so fluffed and puffed out that we recognize it at 
once as an extra fine wadding. It looks much 
like that which Auntie used in making Grand¬ 
father’s padded silk dressing-gown a few days 
ago. We readily recognize its purpose: it is to 
serve as a warm comforter for the little spider- 
lings, when the winds howl and old Winter does 
his worst. 

“ The eggs are suspended from the center of 
the quilt, in a curious little satin pocket, which is 
round at the bottom and square at the top, and 
fitted with a tight little padded lid. The eggs 
themselves are like small orange-colored beads, so 
tiny that some five hundred or more of them are 
glued together into a little lump about the size of 
a pea. The whole nursery—nest, comforter, 
pocket and eggs—can only be equaled for 
uniqueness by that of members of the same tribe, 
the Argiopes or Garden Spiders. 

“ Just think what a wonderful silk factory 
these spiders run! With the simple equipment 
of their hind legs and three pairs of spinnerets 


72 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 

they produce at their pleasure silken rope, satin, 
felt, wadding, and ribbon, and then ornament the 
whole with an embroidery design! How do they 
do it? Examination of the spinneret does not al¬ 
together answer the query, though it does explain 
in a measure the mechanical part. The spin¬ 
nerets are small finger forms with tiny sieve-like 
holes distributed over their surface. These holes 
are in truth little tubes, and the large female 
spiders have as many as a hundred of these little 
spinning tubes on each spinneret. The tubes 
are not all alike; different kinds of tubes pro¬ 
duce different kinds of silk. But how does the 
little worker control her machinery? What 
magic power in the little insignificant-looking 
wedge-shaped head enables her to turn out first 
one intricate pattern, then another? How does 
she produce just the colors she desires? ‘ I see 
the results,’ says Fabre, who knew more about 
insects than any one else has ever learned, 4 but I 
do not understand the machinery, and still less 
the process. It beats me altogether.’ 

“After the nest is finished, the banded spider 
moves aimlessly away without a backward glance. 
She has used up the very last ounce of her en¬ 
ergy, and she is content to leave the result of her 
efforts to time. Small good it would do her to 
return to her web, even if she remembered its lo¬ 
cation. Her silk is all gone. She has not the 


A MANUFACTURER 


73 


strength to manufacture more, and so would be 
utterly unable to bind any prey which drifted into 
her net. Besides she is not hungry. Her rapa¬ 
cious appetite has failed her utterly, and, in short, 
she has so little interest in things in general that 
she languishes around for a few days and then 
dies. 

“ This, I may add, is not the way of all spiders. 
A few species carry their egg-sacs about with 
them continually, guarding them jealously, and 
later rear up the spiderlings in the way they 
should go. We shall probably meet some of this 
clan later. Just now we must keep tab on the 
banded spider’s silken balloon. All winter it is 
well-protected in its lowly grassy hummock, held 
close to the bosom of Mother Earth, and per¬ 
chance hidden for the better part of the time be¬ 
neath a blanket of snow. No matter whether the 
winter be mild or severe, the eggs are safe and 
snug in their warm pocket. In March the spi¬ 
derlings begin to hatch out, and then follows a 
perfectly dreadful time while the larger ones eat 
the smaller, and all struggle in vain to break out 
of their stout little quarters. By and by the 
pocket does give way, and they shoot out over 
the comforter helter-skelter in every direction. 
There is more room there; hence less fighting and 
squabbling, and the youngsters have more time 
to spend pushing against the walls. But they 


74 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


cannot break through. The world is not yet a 
safe place for little spiderlings; their mother has 
builded wisely and well. 

“ However, a day does come when the sun 
shines upon the satiny nest with such heat that 
the threads shrivel and burst. Like a ripened 
seed pod it splits open with a pop, and the little 
creatures are thrown out into the world with 
scant warning. They are in an awful commo¬ 
tion, of course, all mixed up higglety-pigglety 
with down in their eyes and their legs intertan- 
gled. But they manage to get free, and then 
what do they do? Each one mounts a weed stalk, 
or a hummock of earth, and begins to spin a little 
thread. When this gets strong enough to bear 
his weight, the little adventurer embarks on his 
extemporaneous flying-machine, and is off to see 
the world. Next spring I hope we shall have the 
good fortune to locate a band of these little aero¬ 
nauts.” 



s. 


PROGRESSIVE TOWN BUILDERS 


It was a rainy, disagreeable day, and Tommy, 
Max and Ruth were busily engaged in writing 
down the names of North American animals, 
Aunt Ruth having offered a prize of fifty cents 
to the one who had the longest list. Competition 
had been running high for the last hour, ever 
since the contestants, having exhausted their own 
knowledge, had begun to rummage in text-books 
and encyclopedias for help. Shortly Ruth, who 
had possessed herself of an old geography, stole 
softly to Grandfather’s side. 

“ Tell me what these funny-looking little crea¬ 
tures are, Granddaddy,” she begged. “ There’s 
no name under the picture.” 

Obligingly the old gentleman adjusted his 
glasses, and then, having forgotten all about the 
contest and the necessity for replying in secret, 
said heartily, “ They are prairie dogs, honey. 
When I was a boy about the size of Tommy, 
there was a colony of the little rascals not far 
from our house, and I came to know the little 
chaps pretty well. Shall I tell you about them? ” 

“ Uh-huh, please,” Ruth returned, promptly 

75 


76 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 

abandoning book and list, and dragging up a lit¬ 
tle stool that she might sit at the old gentleman’s 
feet, with her arms on his knees. 

“ ‘ Dog town/ we called their quarters,” began 
Mr. Dayton smiling, “ and I liked nothing better 
than to loaf around down there half a day at a 
time. At first, the little dogs were terribly sus¬ 
picious of me; the moment I came in sight the 
sentinels would sound their sharp yelp, like the 
shrill bark of an excited little rat-terrier, and 
whisk! into their holes would go every dog in 
town. I would sit down quietly and remain very 
still. By and by the sentinels themselves would 
venture out cautiously and take up their stands 
on their lookout posts, which were the roofs of 
their houses. How warily they watched me! If 
I would insist on staying, they must, perforce, 
stay on their beat, but it was some time before 
they became convinced of my social intent, and 
sounded their funny little ‘All’s well! ’ call, which 
notified the colony that it would be safe to come 
out and resume matters. In the end, I had a 
number of very good friends in the lot, and I was 
warm in their defense whenever the neighbors 
termed them little nuisances and berated them for 
their pilfering in the gardens. So greatly did 
the tribe increase, however, that at last they did 
become a real pest, and the colony was poisoned 
by order of the city authorities. I nearly cried 


TOWN BUILDERS 77 

my eyes out, and begged hard to save even one, 
but the law was relentless. 

“ Prairie dogs are the cutest and most playful 
little creatures imaginable. They are not real 
dogs, as you can tell by their picture. They are 
the connecting link between the marmots and the 
squirrels, and they have all of the latter’s pretty 
ways. The dog town I knew covered about an 
acre, but in the dry, barren lands of western 
Texas, I am told, their colonies often run into 
neighborhoods all of fifty miles in length. Each 
mound marks the home of a dog family. Always 
there is a father and mother and generally a 
brood of young children. 

“ The dogs do not live in the mounds any more 
than the ants live in their hills. The mounds are 
a system of clever earthworks which serve two 
very important purposes: first for lookouts, as I 
have mentioned, and second as little hillocks to 
keep the water from running into their burrows, 
when the plains are flooded during the rainy sea¬ 
son. The entrance is always in the side of the 
mound, and the long, rather steep, sloping hall 
often runs twelve or fifteen feet before the family 
quarters are reached. These run off at a sharp 
turn from the hall, and are fair-sized rooms, all 
on a level with one another. Besides the living- 
room and nursery, there are storerooms and a sort 
of cesspool where the refuse is dumped. 


78 


NATURE'S CRAFTSMEN 


“ Prairie dogs are clever at surveying. Never 
by any chance do two burrows run together un¬ 
derground. Usually their mounds are thrown up 
about eighteen feet apart, and their towns are 
laid out carefully with reference to streets, alleys, 
and playgrounds. Moreover, these little citizens 
have officers which correspond to our city and 
town officials. The sentinels are the policemen, 
and there is always a ‘mayor’ or ‘ Big Dog,’ 
who looks after the general affairs of the place. 
I’ve watched him many a time sitting before his 
door in august state, passing out orders which 
were obeyed with a truly refreshing promptness 
and dispatch. No sentinels are more trustworthy 
than the pickets of ‘ dog town.’ It is difficult to 
get near enough to a colony to shoot one of the 
little citizens. Nor does an enemy of any kind 
ever manage to get in unawares. 

“ The badger, the black-footed ferret, and the 
rattlesnake are his worst enemies. Against the 
two former there is no redress, as the badger can 
easily dig into a burrow and eat up the helpless 
family; while the ferret, of course, can go any¬ 
where the dogs can. When a rattlesnake ap¬ 
pears, the sentinels sound a general call to arms. 
The little dogs approach warily, and if the crea¬ 
ture is seen to go down a hole, they pitch in with 
a will and shovel dirt into the entrance, packing it 
solidly with their noses, and thereby often en- 


TOWN BUILDERS 


79 


tombing the rattler forever. As a rule, however, 
the snakes content themselves by hiding in the 
grass, and picking off the puppies when they 
come out to frolic around. This is the method 
also of the coyotes, hawks, and owls, who find a 
dog town the most profitable of hunting- 
grounds. 

“Another enemy persists in living in their 
homes with them, much as the flies and spiders do 
with us, only this pest of the prairie dogs is larger 
and more impossible to control. It is the bur¬ 
rowing owl. Go to any western dog town and 
you may see scores of these peculiar birds scat¬ 
tered about. They are not very shy, but if you 
startle one into flight it slips away noiselessly, as 
do all owls, owing to their extremely downy 
plumage. If you wound or catch one, it gives 
out a harsh scream. Their call note sounds like 
that of the cuckoo, and may readily be mistaken 
for it. Living among the dogs, they have natu¬ 
rally caught some of their ways, and they often 
give out a peculiar squeal, which is the best they 
can do toward a bark. They are very sociable 
and chuckle and chatter about with one another 
continually. They eat lizards, grasshoppers and 
insects of all kinds, and if they stopped at that 
they might be the real friends of the prairie dogs. 
But alas! the owls often regale themselves with 
the puppies of their hosts. Were it possible to 


80 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


do so, there is no doubt that dog town would 
thankfully rid itself of the pest.” 

“ What do the dogs themselves eat? ” queried 
Tommy interestedly, he and Max, like Ruth, 
having abandoned their occupation at the very 
beginning of Grandfather’s tale. 

“ Grass and herbage—alfalfa, if they can get 
it, grains of various kinds, peas, lettuce, and al¬ 
most any kind of garden stuff. As they are day 
animals, scouting for food is dangerous, and 
often when they have exhausted the resources 
close at hand, they will build a new town nearer 
the sources of supply, rather than expose them¬ 
selves to the dangers of long journeys. Like the 
desert animals and others whose lives are spent in 
dry regions, the prairie dogs never drink at all. 
Long ago, people thought that they dug pits 
deep into the earth to reach water; now we know 
that this is not true. Early in the morning and 
just before dusk is the time selected by the for¬ 
agers to secure their meals and bring in supplies. 
The prairie dogs neither hole up nor hibernate, as 
do their kin the squirrels and woodchucks. They 
come out every pleasant day all winter long. 

“ Indeed, I imagine the prairie dogs would 
just about die if they had to spend many days in 
solitude! They are the most sociable little folks 
imaginable. I have seen them sitting on their 
mounds all over the town, wagging their tails 



TOWN BUILDERS 


81 


from side to side, yelping back and forth at one 
another cheerfully, apparently having the joiliest 
kind of a visit. More than this they often pay 
calls! Eve seen them out many a time. One 
little madam, or perhaps the master, will come 
out of the house and go down the street a little 
way, perhaps even down several streets or across 
an alley, and stop at the home of some friend. 
The little householder delightedly barks a wel¬ 
come, and invites the caller to be seated. After 
passing the time of day in various little squeals 
and barks the caller rises to go, and the friend 
accompanies him on to the next ‘ house.’ This 
may be some little distance. Again a happy time 
is enjoyed, and the host or hostess, perhaps both, 
joins the party when they set out. Often the 
number is increased to six or eight before the 
party breaks up and they all go their several ways 
home. If a sentinel sounds his shrill whistle 
while they are en route, they all pop into the 
nearest entrance at hand. 

“ Few creatures exhibit more varied interests 
and human-like activities than do the citizens of a 
dog town. Everywhere there is movement, bark¬ 
ing and chattering. The puppies play in the 
streets and parks, and there is joy and happiness 
everywhere, so long as the watchful sentinels see 
no cause for alarm. But let them catch even a 
suspicion of trouble, and there is a sharp note of 


82 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


warning, a wild scramble and whirl of dust, and 
presto! all that is to be seen about the place are a 
few unafraid owls sitting here and yonder in their 
funny postures of bravado.” 


AN INSECT TAILOR 


“Ugh!” shivered Alice. “How can you 
handle that horrid thing, Tommy? It gives me 
the creeps! ” 

“ That’s because you don’t know anything 
about it, Miss! ” retorted her brother. “ In the 
first place this is not a horrid thing; iCs an insect 
tailor, and a decidedly clever one, too. For it 
not only sews a seam much neater than you can 
do; it makes a clever little coat to sleep in, and 
manufactures its own thread to do it with. Uncle 
John has just been telling me all about it.” 

“You said an insect tailor,” Alice commented, 
coming nearer and regarding the object with 
awakening interest. “ Surely caterpillars are 
not insects? ” 

“ That’s just the question I raised,” smiled 
Tommy, “ and Uncle John showed me the proof. 
Scientists say that all creatures that are made up 
of thirteen rings are insects. Well, count the 
rings yourself. . . . You get thirteen all 

right, don’t you? Again, all insects have six 

legs. This fellow looks as if he had a good many 

83 


84 NATURE'S CRAFTSMEN 

more than that, doesn’t he? But look at them: 
they are not all alike. Only the first three pairs 
are jointed and have claws at their tips; the rest 
are merely tiny pads provided with funny little 
hooks. So only the first six are real legs. The 
rest are called claspers, and no really, truly insect 
has these. But the caterpillar cannot be ex¬ 
pected to come up to form in every way; because 
you know it is only a baby. It is the larva of 
either the butterfly or the moth. Some day when 
it has eaten its fill and got its full growth, it will 
go into a pupa state and shortly turn into a true 
winged insect. 

“ Uncle John says that lots of the caterpillars 
are excellent tailors; but the two that do the finest 
work are the caterpillar of a moth belonging to 
the Tinea? tribe and the caterpillar of the Ameri¬ 
can Tortoise Shell Butterfly. This is a butterfly 
baby that I have, and I am going to put him in 
my biggest jar and watch him make a coat.” 

“ How soon will he be ready to go at it? ” Alice 
demanded, eagerly. “ I would love to watch 
him, too. But I must get my work out of the 
way first.” 

“ Take your time,” advised the lad sagely. 
“ He will have to get used to his quarters first. I 
doubt if he is ready to do anything before after¬ 
noon. I’ll keep an eye on him and let you know 
the minute he unfolds his pattern.” 


AN INSECT TAILOR 


85 


It was two o’clock before the summons came, 
and Alice found Tommy and Max fairly holding 
their breath in pleased anticipation before the 
large, roomy jar, which held a bunch of leafy 
twigs and the busy little tailor. Moreover, the 
latter had just begun to cut into his “ cloth,” 
which was, of course, one of the nice green leaves. 
Nor was he bothering anything at all about a pat- 
tern! With his strong jaws and sharp little 
teeth, he slashed straighter across the leaf than 
either of the children could have done offhand 
with the best pair of scissors on the place. 

“ There isn’t even an awkward notch,” mur¬ 
mured Tommy, admiringly. “ His line is as 
straight as though he had followed a mark pre¬ 
viously chalked off with a ruler, and of course he 
did nothing of that sort. I was right here all the 
time, and he never even sighted the line before he 
began to cut! ” 

“ Hi! see what he has done now! ” Max ejacu¬ 
lated excitedly. 

With a quick movement of his unique little 
scissors, the industrious tailor had shaped his coat 
by cutting out a triangular notch, thus making 
two little flaps that were ready to turn down and 
fasten beneath the stem. And, marvel of mar¬ 
vels! without a pattern, or hint of any kind for 
guidance, the two pieces were cut exactly the 
same size and shape. They fitted together per- 


86 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 

fectly, and the outside of the garment was then 
ready to stitch. 

Imagine a caterpillar sewing a seam! That 
was about all the interested children could do, for 
though they saw the fuzzy body moving slowly 
down the length of the “ garment,” they could 
not get the ins and outs of the process. More¬ 
over, when the job was completed, it needed a mi¬ 
croscope to detect the seam! Clever little tailor! 
How had he managed? Whence came his thread? 

“ He did not spin it, that is certain,” declared 
Alice. “A caterpillar does not have spinnerets 
like a spider.” 

“ I know,” cried Max. “ Don’t you remember 
the pine processionaries? They dribbled their 
thread from their mouths. No doubt this fellow 
did the same.” 

“ To be sure,” affirmed Tommy. “At the 
back of his jaws is a sort of little flat lip, through 
which comes a very fine tube. The ‘ silk factory ’ 
is located at the other end of this tube. It is a 
complex piece of machinery, and I doubt if even 
the caterpillar himself knows how it works! He 
doesn’t need to, so long as it never fails to pro¬ 
duce the goods.” 

“Funny sort of a coat, isn’t it?” murmured 
Alice, her dressmaker’s eye quite taken with the 
trim little cylinder. “ What is he about now? 
Ah, look! he is fastening it skillfully back under 


87 


AN INSECT TAILOR 

the uncut part of the leaf. Clever idea, too. Not 
one in a dozen would ever think of looking on the 
under surface of the mutilated leaf to find the 
missing pieces. It is a perfectly safe nook, and 
neither rain nor dew can touch it, for the awning 
above is thoroughly moisture proof. Surely no 
more ingenious cradle could be fashioned! ” 

She was turning away as she finished speaking, 
quite satisfied that the exhibition was over. But 
Tommy caught her arm. 

“ It is not done yet,” he advised. “ You 
wouldn’t think you had it finished if you were do¬ 
ing the job, would you? Every nice warm coat 
has to have a lining, and the caterpillar is a first 
class tailor. I don’t imagine he will quit until 
the garment is finished up right and proper.” 

Sure enough! After a brief rest, the little 
craftsman went at the business of lining with a 
will, and now his thread factory turned out a nice 
soft silk which made the finest sheet wadding pos¬ 
sible to be found anywhere. It was fitted in 
close and snug, and there was no doubt but that 
the little tailor would be as warm as toast when¬ 
ever he took refuge inside the little coat. 

“ He intends it for use only at night and when 
it is damp and rainy,” Tommy informed. 
“ When he is ready for the grand change he will 
seek some perpendicular support, and, after mak¬ 
ing himself fast about the middle with a girdle of 


88 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


silk, will cast his caterpillar skin and turn into a 
chrysalis. Do you know the difference between 
a cocoon and a chrysalis? Uncle John explained 
it very simply: a cocoon is woven of silk, a chrys¬ 
alis is a hard little case. The time the caterpillar 
remains in the pupa state varies anywhere from 
two days to two years, all depending on the spe¬ 
cies. Many kinds of butterflies winter in the 
chrysalis.” 

“ Is there any easy way of distinguishing moth 
and butterfly caterpillars? ” Alice wanted to 
know. 

“Not absolutely. Moth caterpillars are nearly 
always fuzzy; butterfly caterpillars are smooth 
and naked. But there are some exceptions. 
Uncle John and I were caterpillar hunting this 
morning. See, here are some others that I 
found,” and Tommy led the way to another col¬ 
lection of jars. “ This black spiny-covered speci¬ 
men is an exception to the rule just mentioned; 
for it is the offspring of the Mourning Cloak but¬ 
terfly. You all know her. She is purplish 
brown, with wings bordered by yellow, brown, 
and blue. She is the first butterfly to be seen in 
J the springtime, because she hibernates like the 
bears and woodchucks do. But she is a light 
sleeper, and in the south she often comes out and 
sails around during specially mild days in mid¬ 
winter. 


AN INSECT TAILOR 


89 


“ This brown-headed, green-colored fellow, all 
spotted with blue dots, is the caterpillar of the 
Tiger Swallow-tail. I think you know her, too. 
She has yellow wings banded with black, and 
marked by a row of yellow spots along the mar¬ 
ginal border. Like all the swallow-tails (there 
are about 850 kinds), she has funny little projec¬ 
tions like a swallow’s tail on each of her hind 
wings. This baby is a spleeny fellow. See!” 
and Tommy punched him smartly with his finger; 
whereupon a pair of soft orange-colored horns, 
like the letter y in shape, were thrust out from a 
slit in the fore part of the creature’s body, and 
there was a strong, disagreeable odor noticeable 
at the same time. 

“ He may be able to scare some folks with his 
silly weapons,” laughed Max. “ Look at the 
pair of yellow eye spots with black centers near 
his head. Do you suppose he can see anything? ” 

Tommy shook his head, and waved his hand 
grandly, like a showman: “ The next specimen, 
ladies and gentlemen,” he declaimed pompously, 
“ is the child of the Monarch butterfly, alias the 
haunter of the milkweed patch. Observe his 
black, white, and yellow bands carefully. Some 
day he will turn into a bright green, gold-spotted 
chrysalis. Later still he will become one of the 
much-talked-of milkweed butterflies—a splendid 
reddish-brown creature, with wing borders and 


90 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


veins broadly black, having two rows of white 
spots on the margins. And who knows how far 
he may wander! The Monarch is one of the 
strongest flyers in the whole Lepidoptera clan— 
which means the race of butterflies and moths, 
you know. Specimens have been taken on ves¬ 
sels hundreds of miles from land. These butter¬ 
flies live over the winter, but they do not hiber¬ 
nate, they migrate like the birds. 

“ Great flights of Monarchs are observed every 
spring, ranging from the Gulf States to Canada. 
The butterflies pause in passing to feed and to 
lay their eggs upon the young milkweed leaves. 
Such funny eggs, too! They look like tiny lumps 
of green loaf sugar. In the fall there is a return 
flight southward, and the butterflies eventually 
hide themselves away beneath the bark of trees 
and in sheltered places for a brief sleep. The 
encyclopedia says that often these butterflies 
light on the lee side of a tree in such numbers as 
to hide the foliage and give to the leaves a tint as 
of autumn coloring. This butterfly is provided 
with a scent pouch, and when enemies approach 
he fills their noses with an ill-smelling gas.” 

“My word!” murmured Alice, admiringly. 
“And here some of us have been thinking that 
fighting with gas was an invention of the World 
War! ” 

“ I hox>e to make a real collection of butterfly 


AN INSECT TAILOR 


91 


caterpillars before the summer is over,” Tommy 
continued. “ By the way, Daddy says he hopes 
I’ll specialize on cabbage caterpillars! He is 
battling with a whole army of them, as usual at 
this time of year. These other ‘ finds ’ are moth 
babies, as you see. This little fellow in its coat 
of brown and black is called the woolly bear. It 
is the child of the Isabella tiger moth. When 
disturbed it promptly curls up and feigns death 
—like our ’possum friend. 

“ This second member of the moth tribe is the 
yellow bear. After changing his clothes several 
times, he will be one of those fellows that Grand¬ 
mother calls the ‘ braided ’ caterpillar. You 
know what he is like: six rows on his back are 
tufts of hair which are braided as fine as you 
please. Grandmother says doubtless their moth¬ 
ers get them up that way for school! If you 
badger him, his hair unbraids, and each separate 
tuft stands up stiff and straight. My, but he 
does look fierce! ‘ Dog ’ caterpillar would be a 

better name for him, I think. 

“ My third specimen is the hickory-tiger cater¬ 
pillar. He is common enough among the nut 
trees, and Uncle John says he has even seen him 
in the apple orchard. He is easily recognized by 
his black and white markings. See! the black, 
hairy tufts are found along the middle of the 
back, and at either side are the white ones. Near 


92 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 

the head is an exceptionally long tuft of black 
hairs, and long white hairs stick over his head 
like a horse’s fore-top. 

“ Butterflies and moths do considerable good 
distributing pollen, and thus help to form seeds. 
But their babies are all such gluttons that they 
do no end of harm in destroying the foliage of 
fruit and shade trees, besides ruining vegetables 
and grain. Caterpillars are one insect that we 
should set our heels on whenever we come near 
them, Uncle John says. But, I beg you, fetch 
me the first one of every kind you find! ” 

“ You’ll have to take care not to let your speci¬ 
mens escape,” warned Alice. “ Remember the 
gypsy moths which got away from that Massa¬ 
chusetts professor, and have since cost the state 
thousands of dollars in fighting them, to say noth¬ 
ing of the loss caused by their depredations.” 

“ Say,” queried Max, abruptly, “ do you know 
how to distinguish butterflies from moths? ” 

“ Yes,” Tommy returned, “ there are three 
general rules, but you’ve got to look out for ex¬ 
ceptions. First: Butterflies fly by day, and 
moths usually only at night. The humming-bird 
or hawk moth is an exception. You have all seen 
it around the trumpet flowers just about dusk, 
and on cloudy days. Indeed, all the character¬ 
istics of this moth are an exception from start to 
finish. In babyhood it is the big ugly naked 


AN INSECT TAILOR 


93 


green tomato-worm, with white stripes slanted 
along its sides, and a horn upon its tail. Instead 
of pupating like other moths in a silken cocoon, 
it goes into the ground and spends the winter in 
a funny brown chrysalis. You all know it. We 
often plow it up in the spring when we are get¬ 
ting the garden ready. It looks like a ringed 
worm sticking out of an odd-handled case.” 

“ I know,” interrupted Max, “ we always call 
it ‘ the worm with a handle/ ” 

“ Second: ” continued Tommy, returning like 
a lawyer to his briefs. “ When resting, the wings 
of a butterfly are held vertical over its back; 
while a moth at rest spreads its wings out flat, or 
holds them folded against its body at the sides. 

“ Third :—and this is the best rule of all—The 
feelers of the butterflies are long and thread-like, 
with little swollen knobs on the ends. Each one 
looks like a tiny club with a thread handle. The 
feelers of the moth either taper to a fine point, or 
are feathered throughout. The American silk¬ 
worm is an example of the feathered-feeler 
moths. The hawk moth has very long feelers, 
thickest at the center, and hooked at the end, a 
further continuance of its exceptions, you see.” 

“ Goodness me,” exclaimed Alice, as Tommy 
turned to replace his specimens, “ there goes the 
supper bell! Wasn’t it lucky it was Mabel’s turn 
to get it? I Had no idea of the time! Moths and 



94 


NATURE S CRAFTSMEN 


butterflies are interesting; but, Tommy, I still 
maintain that caterpillars are horrid creatures, 
tailor or no tailor! ” 


SOME TIMBER CUTTERS 


“ Listen to this, folks,” called Mr. Dayton, 
from the depths of a voluminous newspaper; 
“ here’s some data on one of Nature’s craftsmen, 
a skilled wood cutter and mason, that is most 
astonishing.” And he proceeded to read a spe¬ 
cial to the Post-Dispatch , as follows: 

“ ‘ Ellensburg, Washington.—A large number 
of beavers have executed an extraordinary en¬ 
gineering feat in the Cascade Mountains, forty 
miles from here, by building a dam twelve feet 
high and more than a quarter mile in length. 
Seven beaver houses at the center of the dam are 
of large proportions, one being fifteen feet high 
and thirty feet across at the bottom. These are 
unusually spacious for beaver homes, but ac¬ 
cording to Indians, were made so tall because of 
floods which are sure to come in the spring thaw. 
Evidently the beavers were looking for the long, 
cold winter being experienced in the Northwest, 
as large quantities of green wood for food were 
found in or near the houses. 

“ ‘ In building the great dam, the ingenuity of 
the most intelligent of the animals must have been 
taxed, for logs over a foot thick were carefully 
balanced between two large rocks at the point of 
greatest pressure. Not much water was held in 
by this log and rock wall, but in the freshet season 

95 


96 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


two months hence an enormous amount would 
be impounded. So great a menace did this huge 
dam present that the State Commission of game 
gave the district Game Warden permission to 
destroy the colony. Over two hundred beavers 
of all sizes were trapped and the pelts sold at 
auction. Under the protective laws, beavers in 
all parts of the Northwest multiply rapidly, and 
their dams often disturb the proper flow of water 
feeding irrigation canals.’ ” 

“ It is good to know that nowadays official per¬ 
mission is necessary before the little creatures can 
be slain,” commented Auntie. “ They have been 
so mercilessly persecuted in the past, not only for 
their fur but for their flesh as well. In the be¬ 
ginning of this century, more than two hundred 
thousand skins were shipped to foreign lands each 
year. The Indians and Canucks are very fond 
of beaver meat. It is said to taste something like 
pork, but it is more oily and fragrant.” 

“ Like ’possum, I imagine,” remarked Uncle 
John, “ it takes a person with a considerable lik¬ 
ing for wild meat to enjoy it.” 

“Beavers are black, aren’t they?” queried 
Alice. “ All the beaver fur I remember seeing 
has been confined to hats.” 

“ Chestnut brown is the usual color, I believe,” 
replied Uncle John, “ though there are often 
black and spotted specimens, and now and then 
there is a pure white one. The beaver is a rodent; 


SOME TIMBER CUTTERS 97 

that is he belongs to the rat family, and is about 
the size of Daddy Thornton’s rat-terrier. He 
has a broad head, small eyes, a blunt nose, and 
short, rounded ears. There are five toes on each 
foot, those on the hind feet being webbed. His 
teeth are a bright orange color and as sharp as 
chisels. His tail is about eleven inches long, 
broad and flat and covered with scales. He uses 
it to prop himself when he stands on his hind 
legs. In the water it is the rudder which directs 
his course, and he also uses it as a paddle. He 
is a graceful and powerful swimmer, and never 
by any chance travels by land unless forced to do 
so. His tail is, in fact, one of his most useful 
members. Folks used to say that he used it as a 
trowel. This is not true, but he does slap it on 
the ground sharply as a warning of danger. One 
slap, and you should see the others scatter! 

“ All told, the beaver is a very remarkable 
creature, and a more clever and industrious little 
craftsman than he would be hard to find. He 
lives in a burrow during the summer and in 
lodges in winter. Always the entrance to the 
home is under water, and it must be down deep 
enough so that there is no danger of its being 
stopped up by ice. This is the real reason that 
beavers build dams. Ordinarily the site selected 
by them is not a stream of sufficient depth to 
guarantee safety from the advances of the ice 


98 


NATURE S CRAFTSMEN 


king. So the beaver, like the wise little engineer 
that he is, builds a dam to keep back the water 
and thus raise it to the required depth. These 
dams, as the paper has just stated, are often 
massive affairs, and in their construction the lit¬ 
tle animals often show great engineering ability. 

“ The beavers live in colonies, you know; so 
that what looks like a gigantic undertaking for 
so small an animal is not such a terrible problem 
when two hundred or more go at it. Indeed, a 
dam ten feet thick and three hundred feet in 
length is often constructed in what seems an in¬ 
credibly short time. The first job, of course, is 
to fell the trees necessary for the log part. Six or 
eight of the workmen chiseling with might and 
main on a tree is an interesting sight! So sharp 
are their teeth and so strong their jaws that even 
large trees cannot long stand against their tireless 
onslaught. Moreover, they know enough to fell 
their tree so that it falls into the water where 
they can handle it, and they always cut it far 
enough up-stream to give them plenty of oppor¬ 
tunity to swing it into the position they want it. 
An instance is on record of a poplar tree, nine 
feet in circumference, that was felled by the bea¬ 
vers on the upper Missouri. Doubtless among 
the beaver colonies of the Northwest, where great 
trees are the rule, this feat is often exceeded. 

“After enough trees have been interlocked 





















SOME TIMBER CUTTERS 


99 


across the stream, the chinks are filled with 
branches, sticks, stones, grasses, and mud, until 
the dam is firmly wedged in place. It is not so 
tight, however, but that the water trickles 
through it instead of running over the top. The 
beavers walk on their hind legs and carry the mud 
from the bottom of the stream in their fore-paws, 
holding it pressed against their chests with the 
aid of their chins. They work only in the late 
evening and at night, and while there is no 
‘ boss 5 in charge, each mason is so apt in plan¬ 
ning and executing that not a single move seems 
to be wasted. As the industrious creatures are 
always adding material to their dam, so that it 
will not become weakened and go down in a 
freshet, it often happens that in cases where a 
dam has stood for some years its dimensions be¬ 
come very large and thick. Shrubs and trees 
sprout upon it, and it has every appearance of a 
green hedge stretching across the water. A large 
proportion of the marshy ponds and bogs of our 
country are supposed to owe their origin to the 
constructive energy of the beavers. Who knows, 
perhaps some of our west marsh may have been 
built by a colony of beavers? In truth, it is 
highly probable. I have even thought some of 
trying to found a colony there again. Eh? 
What do you say, boys? Wouldn’t it be great 
fun to watch them getting down to business? ” 


100 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


“ It certainly would! ” “ Do, Uncle John! ” 

came from the boys. 

“ While several families live in one ‘ lodge,’ 
each has its own quarters and private door, 
and there is no door of communication between 
the various homes. The beds are built along the 
wall, of moss, grass, and small twigs. The center 
of the room is left empty and is kept very clean. 
Beavers lived originally in the watered wood¬ 
lands all over North America and in the Old 
World, being most plentiful about the wild 
wooded lakes of our northern states and Canada, 
and in Norway and Siberia. The wholesale de¬ 
struction of the beavers has nearly wiped them out 
of their old haunts, but now thanks to protective 
laws they are slowly being won back in many 
parts, particularly in the swampy forest head¬ 
waters about the Mississippi and in northern 
Maine. They take quite well to confinement, and 
are to be found flourishing in colonies in zoolog¬ 
ical gardens and parks in New York, Washing¬ 
ton, and other large cities. According to Woods, 
beavers confined in a room have been known to 
build dams across their quarters, using brushes, 
books, fire-irons, boots, and anything else they 
could find, proving plainly that their marvelous 
building ingenuity is not founded on reason but 
on instinct. 

“ Usually a litter of four baby beavers are pro- 


X 

0 


SOME TIMBER CUTTERS 101 

duced at a birth. They live at home for two years. 
Then there are a number of beaver weddings, 
and each young couple strikes out for an unoccu¬ 
pied part of the woodland and founds a new 
colony. Their first labor is to dig a burrow in 
the bank, starting from an entrance at the bottom 
of the stream. Here they make their home for a 
few years, until the increase in numbers gives 
extra hands for more pretentious building; then 
the old burrow serves for a variety of purposes, 
not the least being for a refuge in time of danger. 
Occasionally an old ‘ bach ’ is found living glum 
and morose away off by himself! 

“ Beavers are close kin to the squirrels, and, 
like them, sit upon their haunches a great deal, 
holding their food in their fore-paws and other¬ 
wise using these ‘ hands ’ very dexterously. 
The food of the beaver is the bark of trees, roots, 
and water plants. In summer they eat plenti¬ 
fully of berries, leaves and water-lilies. When 
tamed and cared for by man, they like bread and 
milk, sugar, fruits and rice, and are said to be 
very fond of plum pudding. In the fall they lay 
up stores for winter by cutting a number of green 
branches and sinking them in the water in their 
‘ dooryard,’ weighting them down firmly by 
piling stones on the heap. Whenever a beaver 
feels the pangs of hunger in midwinter, he goes 
to the storeheap and drags out enough ‘ greens ’ 


102 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


to make a meal. The Indians foretell the length 
of winter by the size of the beavers’ store. One 
authority cites a certain colony of beavers which 
gathered seven hundred and thirty-two sapling 
aspens and several hundred willows for the com¬ 
ing winter, forming a pile over three feet deep 
and one hundred and twentv-four feet in circum- 
ference. Roots of water-lilies and other aquatic 
plants are also stored to a considerable extent. 

“ Of course, in the case of a large beaver 
colony, the shrubs and trees along the water’s 
edge are in time destroyed. Fresh bark for their 
food supplies needs must be had, however, and the 
little people meet the demand most ingeniously. 
Going above their dam, they begin the construc¬ 
tion of an extensive canal system, and in a few 
years’ time their canals penetrate the woodland 
in every direction. These are often dredged to a 
considerable depth, and range from two to three 
feet in width and are often one hundred yards in 
length. The beavers take pains to keep them 
free and open, and thus, while the rest of the 
4 pond ’ becomes gradually grown up with water 
plants, the canals form an avenue along which 
new lodges and burrows are placed, and where 
food and building materials may be freely floated 
down to the main channel.” 


A QUEER HOUSE BUILDER 


“ See here, Uncle John,” begged Tommy, 
“ please read this riddle for me. Grandmother 
says it is an oak apple; I knew that already. I’ve 
cut several open, and there’s nothing but a 
spongy growth inside. What makes them, and 
what good are they? ” 

“ Hmm! ” murmured Uncle John, reaching 
for the specimen. “ First, let me show you that 
your investigations were not complete enough.” 
With his knife he cut deftly into the “ apple,” 
and pushing aside the spongy matter disclosed a 
hard little kernel about the size of a pea. “ See! ” 
he said, “ here is a tenant. Inside this cradle is a 
little white grub, the child of one of the many 
insect foes of the oak. In the autumn the oak 
apple falls with the leaves, and lies safe and snug 
among them until spring, when the little grub 
that was comes forth transformed into a gall-fly 
like its mother. It is a small, dark-colored, four¬ 
winged fly, and, after a brief wedding journey, 
the female sets out to lay her eggs on the oak 
leaves just as her mother before her has done. 

“ Of all the queer eggs that of the gall-fly is 

the queerest! It is a slender little affair, with a 

103 


104 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


sort of long petiole or footstalk six to ten times 
the length of the egg itself. It is jabbed into the 
leaf by the gall-fly’s long, curious-shaped, egg- 
laying tool, and by some means not clearly un¬ 
derstood the misused leaf is made to transform 
itself into a nursery for the gall-fly baby. Once 
upon a time it was thought that a poisonous liquid 
was deposited with the egg, but presently it was 
noted that no change was to be observed in the 
leaf until after the egg hatched. Therefore, now 
it is supposed that the larva itself secretes a liquid 
which causes the abnormal growth. This liquid 
is not capable of producing an entirely foreign 
growth unaided, you understand; it simply stim¬ 
ulates the cells which are the most active in grow¬ 
ing and subdividing, and the plant does the rest. 

“ Galls are queer things, and show a wide range 
of form. Moreover, all galls are not made by 
gall-flies. Some beetles and caterpillars, a few 
Chalcis flies, and certain mites and scale insects 
produce galls. But usually when galls are men¬ 
tioned it is the product of the gall-flies that is 
thought of; perhaps because for so many years 
the galls of the dyer’s oak, a product of the gall¬ 
fly, were imported in large numbers to be used 
in the manufacture of ink. 

“ Gall-flies of every species seem to be par¬ 
ticularly fond of the oak. They pierce its shoots, 
its twigs and leaf-stalks, and even the mid-rib of 


A QUEER HOUSE BUILDER 105 

the leaf. One tribe which visits the scarlet and 
black-jack oaks have a decided hand in shaping 
the tree. Their nursery is in the wood of a 
branch. Outside this nursery is a great black 
knot deforming the whole limb; within is a mass 
of cells with a little worm living in each. One 
may easily sight dozens of such nurseries down in 
the wood-lot, and all but the initiated will pass 
them by totally unsuspecting their real character. 

“ One species of gall-fly attacks the rose¬ 
bushes, and works all sorts of wonders. For ex¬ 
ample, often on a smooth stemmed rose we find 
a queer wart or gall that is covered with thorns. 
Every part of the rose is affected by the various 
gall-flies which frequent it—root, stem, leaves, 
all are distorted with their greenish swellings, 
which turn to shades of red and yellow and finally 
to brown as the season advances. When fully 
matured the spiny rose gall just mentioned is as 
large as a cockleburr, but round in shape, and 
most thoroughly protected by its defensive armor 
of rigid thorns. Inside is a full-grown larva, per¬ 
haps one-sixth of an inch in length. The gall is 
now dead, but it serves the little footless, worm¬ 
like creature for shelter until spring, when an 
active little gall-fly emerges from the little 
‘ house ’ through a round hole which it has 
gnawed in one side. 

“ When you once get to looking for galls you 


106 


NATURE S CRAFTSMEN 


will be amazed to find them everywhere, not only 
on the oaks and rose-bushes, but on the maples 
and lindens of our lawns, on the hickories and 
willows of our woods and hedges, on the golden- 
rod of the fields, and indeed on very many of the 
plants all about us. The galls of the golden- 
rod, however, are produced by a Tineid moth; 
and most of those on other low plants and shrubs 
are the work of lice, mites and beetles. True 
galls, that is those made by the gall-flies, differ 
from each other vastly more than do the species 
of little craftsmen that dwell in them. But 
whether burr, berry, wart, cone, ‘ gouty,’ or ap¬ 
ple be their shape, all are inhabited. The same 
kind of fly will produce different kinds of galls 
on different kinds of plants; likewise, too, dif¬ 
ferent kinds of flies will produce different kinds 
of galls on the same plant. Always, however, 
each species of gall-fly infests a particular part 
of the plant, such as the root, leaf or stem, and 
that part alone; and its galls are always as near 
alike as two peas. On seeing a gall, then, we can 
be practically sure what little craftsman started 
the house building. But, if we hatch and rear the 
little grub that is installed therein, we are not 
always sure to get a specimen similar to the one 
we are expecting. And why? Because the same 
trick of fate which works changelings in other 
cradles is frequently effected here. Ofttimes the 


A QUEER HOUSE BUILDER 107 

guest gall-fly comes along and lays her egg side 
by side with the true gall, and the two babies are 
reared in one cradle; again a parasitic gall-fly 
deposits a companion egg and the little parasite 
when it hatches proceeds to feed upon the true gal] 
baby. Another point, the individual hatched may 
be a sure enough gall-fly, but instead of looking 
like its parent, it resembles its grandparent, which 
was another creature altogether. The subject of 
gall-fly generations is like a Chinese puzzle. One 
may have wings, another be wingless; one may be 
all females, another of both males and females; 
we see their case paralleled in the undersea world 
by the hydroids and jellyfishes. 

“ Strangely enough, or perhaps, knowing 
Mother Nature, we had better say as is to be ex¬ 
pected, the little gall nurseries all have their pro¬ 
tective features. Some galls exude sweet juices 
and thus attract the honey-making ants who at 
once establish a guard about it, and thenceforth 
protect the rich stores with their lives if need be. 
Other galls are covered with sticky hairs which 
entrap would-be marauders. Again the spongy 
growth is too thick to be readily broken, or the 
hollow chamber is so large that a groping tongue 
cannot readily discover the small occupant. Or 
perchance, as in the oak apple here, the baby is 
further safeguarded by being hidden away in a 
wooden cradle; some galls even have hard stony 


108 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


cradles. The pine-cone galls are sufficiently pro-* 
tected by their scales. Other galls are exempt by 
reason of their bitter tannin, or because of a pro¬ 
tective coloring which safely hides them from all 
but the very sharpest eyes. Various insects, 
creepers and titmice, and the squirrels are the 
chief enemies of the gall babies. The birds and 
squirrels tear open the houses to get the little 
tenants. The insects feed upon the rich tissues 
of which the house is formed, and even penetrate 
to the well-stocked pantry which the inmate itself 
fills by industriously secreting a sort of juicy fer¬ 
ment which changes the stored starch into sugar. 

“ Often in hunting for galls you will come 
upon strange wens and tumors on certain trees, 
particularly on the birches and hackberries, which 
seem too large to harbor even a host of gall-fly 
babies such as are sometimes found in woody 
growths. Investigation will show that these 
strange woody deformities, with their divers little 
twigs twisting helter-skelter in every direction, 
are caused by a peculiar fungus. Before this was 
understood, people stood in awe of them. They 
called them witches’ brooms, and many queer and 
creepy stories were told concerning them. In 
Germany, the name thunder-besoms was applied 
to these queer tufts of twigs. Similar growths 
on the rose-bushes are often termed elf-rods even 
to this day.” 


FAMOUS SPINNERS 


“ You know,” Auntie observed, as she deftly 
hemmed Mabel’s new silk dress with dainty, even 
stitches, “ when we first began to talk about Na¬ 
ture’s craftsmen, it was remarked that man could 
make almost anything in the way of machinery, 
and could manufacture almost anything he 
pleased; and yet there is one thing he cannot do. 
No human being can make a single yard of nat¬ 
ural silk. To be sure, some manufacturers have 
succeeded in turning out very good imitations, 
but their silk is much thicker and heavier than the 
real article. 

“It is to the skill of the silkworm or, strictly 
speaking, to the silk caterpillar that we are in¬ 
debted for real silk. The Chinese who discovered 
the usefulness of these remarkable little creatures, 
more than four thousand years ago, are to blame 
for the misnomer. The industrious little silk¬ 
worm is not a worm at all. It is a child of the 
Eombyx moth, and hence must of necessity be a 
caterpillar. For a caterpillar by and by passes 
into winged life; a worm does not. But it is too 

late now to change the name, however wrongly 

109 


110 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


placed it may be. It was the Empress Si- 
Ling-Chi who discovered the secret of making 
cloth from the silk of the silkworms, in the reign 
of the third Emperor of China, 2,700 years be¬ 
fore Christ was born. For centuries the Chinese 
guarded the secret with jealous care, and the 
work of rearing the worms was considered fitting 
labor for queens and the nobly born. The pen¬ 
alty for carrying the eggs out of China was 
death.” 

“ I know,” said Mabel. “ I was reading just 
the other day how two Persian monks managed 
to learn the secret, and finally escaped to their 
own realm with a quantity of silkworm eggs safe 
in the hollow handle of a bamboo cane. Shortly, 
then, the exacting demands of the Oriental silk 
merchants were broken; for the industry once it 
had escaped bounds spread like wild-fire. Silk 
was first manufactured in England in the reign 
of Edward III, and for long years ‘ the mystery 
of the silkwomen ’ was protected by an Act of 
Parliament. France, who later came to excel in 
silk-making, did not establish her silk industries 
until 1564.” 

“ Tell us about the little craftsmen themselves, 
Auntie,” Tommy requested, bobbing up from a 
corner where he had been poring over a book. “ I 
wonder, could I grow ’em? ” 

“ To be sure you could,” Miss Merryhew re- 


FAMOUS SPINNERS 


111 


turned promptly. “ But the work is very exact¬ 
ing, and requires some one in almost constant at¬ 
tendance. To begin with, suppose you were to 
buy an ounce of silkworm eggs. How many of 
the tiny things do you suppose you would get? 
Around forty thousand. Imagine such a number 
of eggs! It would take you some time to count 
that number, would it not? You would prob¬ 
ably have the best success hatching the eggs in 
an incubator. The temperature should be about 
fifty degrees when the eggs are put in, and grad¬ 
ually raised to around seventy-three. It takes 
about nine days for the eggs to turn into grubs. 
The nearness of hatching may be noted by the 
whitening of the eggs. 

“Now the silkworm raiser’s labor begins: he 
must cover the eggs with sheets of coarse tulle, 
or with paper which has been pierced full of tiny 
holes. On this covering should be placed a fine 
sprinkling of white mulberry leaves chopped into 
tiny bits. As fast as the worms come out, they will 
crawl up on the sheet. For they are the hungri¬ 
est, most voracious little babies imaginable! At 
first they are too tiny to eat the leaves, they 
merely suck the juices. But it is astonishing 
how much juice they can imbibe in twenty-four 
hours. The sheets must be changed eight or ten 
times during this period. As soon as the worms 
have climbed up on a fresh sheet, the soiled one 


112 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 

is removed and burned. Cleanliness and right 
temperature are prime features in the silkworm 
business. The worms are very delicate, and sub¬ 
ject to various death-dealing diseases, chief of 
which is known as silkworm rot, due to a fungus 
growth which takes place inside the caterpillar. 

“ For ease in handling, the sheets of silkworms 
are usually placed on trays of screen-wire or 
wicker. Such trays allow for careful ventilation, 
which is another very important point. About a 
square yard of space will do for the little black 
fellows in the beginning. They are so very tiny 
that it would take thirty-four of them in a 
straight line to make an inch. In two days, how¬ 
ever, so rapidly do they grow that double the 
space is required, and, by the time they are ready 
to spin their cocoons, sixty times as much shelf 
room is required. The skin is changed four times 
during the growth of the caterpillar,—a period 
of eight or nine weeks altogether. And during 
all this time the grower is kept on the jump, pro¬ 
viding food, changing the sheets, and keeping the 
room well-ventilated and the temperature around 
sixty-five degrees. One person, of course, cannot 
begin to do all the work that is required. In 
China and Japan it takes the whole family: the 
boys to gather and chop the leaves, the girls to 
prepare the sheets and do the feeding, the father 
to keep the charcoal burning in the little braziers 



© International Newsreel 


“SUPER” SILKWORMS AT WORK 






FAMOUS SPINNERS 113 

that are set about to keep the room warm, and 
to help with the cocoons, and the mother and 
the girls to do the winding, spinning and weav¬ 
ing. 

“ About the only breathing space is during the 
moulting periods. For then the silkworms refuse 
to eat. But it is an anxious time for the growers; 
often the worms die during the moult. Poor lit¬ 
tle creatures, growing a coat isn’t as easy as some 
would think apparently. The little worms turn 
yellow and hump up their bodies, crawling about 
restlessly at first, and then as the skin grows 
tighter they remain very still. By and by the old 
coat gets so snug that the ‘ cloth ’ needs must 
give; the garment splits across the shoulders, and 
the worm wriggles the upper part of its body 
free. Soon afterwards it is out, but oh, so tired! 
In twenty minutes or more, however, if it is a 
strong specimen, it is quite rested and climbs up 
on the clean sheet. 

“ ‘ Yum-yum! how good fresh mulberry leaves 
are! ’ it seems to say, and as it eats it moves its 
head from side to side in evident enjoyment, while 
the leaves disappear at a great rate. Sometimes, 
particularly in our own southland where the 
worms are coming to be grown more and more, 
Osage orange leaves are fed instead of the white 
mulberry. But worms so fed make a coarser and 
less valuable grade of silk. Leaves from the 


114 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


black mulberry and lettuce leaves are also used 
sometimes. But nothing gives as good returns 
as the white mulberry. The red mulberry and 
the paper mulberry are said to be quite worthless 
for silkworm feeding. 

“ Each time the caterpillar moults it becomes 
paler in color, the reason being that each succes¬ 
sive coat has fewer black hairs in its nap. When 
full grown, the worm is nearly three inches long 
and quite naked. Its color now is usually a yel¬ 
lowish-gray; wild varieties are much darker. All 
the time the worm has been growing two large 
glands or sacs have been forming along its sides. 
These sacs are the spinnerets. They open into 
the silkworm’s mouth, for like all caterpillars 
these little creatures dribble their thread. For 
five days before the worm is ready to begin spin¬ 
ning its appetite is hard to satisfy. It eats every 
waking moment, until at last its needs are filled, 
when it begins to grow stupid and languid, and 
the grower makes haste to provide a quantity of 
small brush, clumps of rice straw, or arches 
formed of fine wood for the workers to fasten 
their cocoons upon. These are placed in rows 
about sixteen inches apart, so that the caterpillars 
may have ample room. Now, too, the tempera¬ 
ture is raised about ten degrees. 

“ Shortly each spinner has selected a site for 
his silken house, and is busily engaged on the 


FAMOUS SPINNERS 


115 


‘ foundation/ which in this case is a network to 
hold the cocoon. One strand comes from each 
spinneret, and the two strands are joined to¬ 
gether. But it is quite impossible to see how this 
joining is done, even with the most powerful 
magnifying glass. At first the spun thread is as 
soft as jelly, but it hardens quickly on being ex¬ 
posed to the air. The caterpillar seems to force 
the silk out by contractions of its body, and even 
after the network is finished and the caterpillar 
has begun to wind itself into a cocoon in the cen¬ 
ter, one may know that the work is still going on 
by a soft little sound made by the machinery of 
the tiny silk manufacturer. In twenty-four 
hours the spinner is hidden from sight, but it is 
still busily at work. 

“ For three days and nights the tiny silk fac¬ 
tory runs without ceasing, and then behold! a 
beautiful light-colored silken house nearly as 
large as a pigeon’s egg. There is no door or win¬ 
dow. The little occupant will make a door in 
one end when it is ready to come out. Because 
the making of this door cuts the silk so that it 
cannot be wound, only those cocoons which are 
needed to provide moths for future egg laying 
are left to develop. A difference in the shape and 
size of the cocoons denotes the sex of the creature 
within: the females spin large plump cases, while 
the work of the males is much smaller, with 


116 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 

sharper extremities and a depression in the 
center. 

“ As soon as all ‘ mill ’ sounds have ceased the 
cocoons are carefully sorted. Those which are to 
be unwound for silk are treated in various ways: 
some growers dip them in hot water or steam 
them, others bake them in the oven. The object 
is to kill the worms and to soften the gum so that 
the threads can be wound. The threads range 
from six hundred to one thousand yards in 
length; sometimes an especially fine one will 
measure twelve hundred yards. More than half 
a mile in length—think of it! It takes about 
three thousand cocoons to produce one pound of 
raw silk. With good luck, the grower generally 
realizes about one hundred pounds of cocoons 
from an ounce of eggs. The raw silk is wound 
or reeled into skeins, and in this shape is ready to 
be sold to silk factories, or it may be worked up 
at home. It takes the fiber from ninety cocoons 
twisted together to make a thread of sewing silk. 
So you see how very, verjr fine must be the prod¬ 
uct produced by one little silkmaker. Thousands 
and thousands of silkworms lived, spun, and died 
to provide silk enough for this dress of Mabel’s. 

“ An interesting change, of course, takes place 
in the cocoons which are kept to replenish the 
silk grower’s stock. Shortly the inmate of the 
silken house turns into a hard little ringed chrys- 



FAMOUS SPINNERS 


117 


alis. It has neither head nor feet, and the wings 
of the future moth are folded over the breast. 
It is golden-yellow at first, but gradually deepens 
to chestnut brown. In about three weeks’ time a 
creamy white moth comes out. The life of one 
of these is brief indeed, but the females lay a host 
of eggs before they go—sometimes as many as 
four hundred each. When first laid the eggs are 
pale yellow and look as though they had been 
covered with varnish. They soon turn gray. 
Dainty little eggs of promise! How careful the 
silk grower is to save every one.” 

“ What about wild silkworms, Auntie? ” Alice 
wanted to know. “ I saw a cocoon woven in a 
network such as you have described in a hazel 
bush last week when we were camping. I passed 
it by, supposing it to be the egg-sac of a spider.” 

“ It was probably the cocoon of Madam 
Cecropia,” informed Uncle John, who had just 
joined the group. “ She is the largest of our 
American silkworms, of which we have several 
species. The moth herself is a beautiful grayish- 
brown creature marked with reddish and yellow 
spots and bands. Her full-grown larvae are large 
green fellows handsomely decorated with six tiny 
coral-red knobs on the thorax and a number of 
blue knobs on the abdomen. They feed upon all 
rosaceous plants—that is all those of spreading- 
petal type like the rose, apple, plum, bramble, 


118 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


and strawberry, and upon the hickory, maple, 
willow, hazelnut and honey locust. The cocoon 
is a peculiar one, being built with double walls— 
a thick, wrinkled, brown paper-like outer wrap¬ 
per, and inside a dainty case of silk. 

“ The large luna moth is another distinguished 
member of the silkworm clan. You know her, I 
believe. She is of a handsome delicate green color, 
with swallow-tail wings. Her cocoon is spun in 
several of our forest trees. She is a close kin to 
the yamamai, or 4 oak 9 silkworm which is much 
raised in Japan. The silk of the yamamai ranks 
next to that of the domestic silkworm. 

44 The species called the American silkworm 
often fastens her cocoons to the leaves of our fruit 
and shade trees. They are formed of strong silk, 
which unwinds in a glossy fiber. Frequently 
these cocoons are to be found clinging to fallen 
leaves. You may know them by the chalky color 
of their hard gum which takes considerable heat 
to soften. The moth herself is a handsome buff- 
colored creature. 

44 India cultivates six of her native silkworms. 
China, Japan and France use every available one 
of theirs. England, too, has tried her hand at 
taming the wild ones. No doubt many of our own 
American spinners could be domesticated, and 
the quantity and quality of their silk improved 
by careful selection. If you want to experiment 


FAMOUS SPINNERS 


119 


with silkworms, Tommy, you might do something 
worth while in this line. A large part of our 
country is splendidly adapted to silk culture, and 
the day is coming when this is bound to become 
one of our leading industries.” 


A SKILLED CEMENT WORKER 


Mabel and Alice had been busy sketching the 
nests of various Nature’s craftsmen, and Uncle 
John had been called in for advice and criticism. 

“ Do you know,” he asked, as he settled himself 
for a chat afterwards, “ that there is a fish that 
constructs a nest not much different from those 
built by our feathered friends? It is the stickle¬ 
back, a creature about four inches in length. If 
we go to the lakes to camp this summer, we shall 
be very apt to meet him. 

“ I say him because, contrary to the usual fash¬ 
ion among our small neighbors, it is the male 
which builds the nest. More than this, it is he 
who stands guard at all hours and carefully at¬ 
tends to the wants of his offspring. The female 
stickleback is a fickle, empty-headed creature, 
too fond of a good time and society generally to 
care for family ties. It is with reluctance that 
she even enters the nest long enough to lay a few 
eggs. Indeed, there is a good deal of the cuckoo 
about the female sticklebacks. They may lay in 
one nest to-day and another to-morrow. Usu¬ 
ally several females deposit their eggs in one 

nest, and Father Stickleback is quite likely to 

120 


A CEMENT WORKER 121 

have a numerous family on his hands. But he is 
quite equal to the occasion, for, small as he is, no 
fish can equal him in daring and courage. He 
is a regular pepperpot, and fights all comers, 
taking no rest and giving no quarter, until his 
enemies are forced to flee from him. 

“ The stickleback is a handsome fellow and 
shines as if he were covered with silver tinsel. 
But when he loses his temper he changes color as 
rapidly as did the diamond in Merlin’s wonderful 
Necklace of Truth, being first red, then pale, and 
then flushing a rich purple in the most surprising 
way. Owing to his spleen, the stickleback’s life 
is one round of excitement, and he pays a heavy 
toll, for his years are few, only three or four at 
best.” 

“ Durn vivimus, vivamus ” murmured Mabel, 
who liked nothing better than an opportunity to 
air her Latin. 

“ Exactly,” Uncle John agreed smilingly, 
“ the stickleback’s motto could not be better 
phrased.” 

‘‘Interpreter! interpreter! ” Alice cried, rap¬ 
ping smartly with her ruler, as one demanding 
“ author, author,” at a rehearsal. 

“ While we live, let us live,” informed Auntie, 
speaking softly close at hand; for Tommy had 
started Uncle John again by inquiring into the 
nature of the stickleback’s craft. 


122 


NATURE S CRAFTSMEN 


“ He is a cement worker, lad, of the most skil¬ 
ful type. His cement is a thread-like glue drawn 
from a special gland as it is needed. It is ideal 
for the purpose of cementing together bits of 
leaves, water plants, and grasses, to form the tiny 
muff-like nest, which looks very much as though 
it might have been fashioned by some bird. But 
where is the bird that would build on the sandy 
bottom of some lake or sluggish stream? 

“ The most important part of the structure is, 
of course, the bottom or foundation of the nest, 
and the stickleback goes at it with great care. 
He bustles about fetching material in his mouth 
until he has collected quite a heap. Then he be¬ 
gins to lay his grasses and leaves crisscross, ce¬ 
menting them together as they are laid. By and 
by, he has covered a floor space as large as de¬ 
sired. It looks frail. No doubt a sudden squall 
could easily start it from its moorings, and the 
stickleback takes no chances. Quietly he begins 
to gather tiny stones and pebbles, strewing them 
over the floor to hold it down. This done he pro¬ 
ceeds to lay another floor of leaves and grass on 
top of the first, carefully making all fast as be¬ 
fore. Sometimes there are three or four layers 
of flooring, perhaps more, each carefully 
weighted with rocks which are cemented tightly 
into their positions. 

“ When the floor is completed to the work- 


A CEMENT WORKER 


123 


man’s entire satisfaction, work is begun on the 
walls. These are formed of grasses, leaves, and 
twigs, plentifully glued and cemented together 
to form a circular shape, with the central part 
hollowed like a muff. At one side is a nice round 
door; just opposite this is another opening not so 
large, which we may term a window, though Mr. 
Stickleback and his various fair guests always 
come out at it. Imagine continually entering 
your house at the door and coming out the win¬ 
dow! The reason why in stickleback wherefores 
is due perhaps to their ingrained policy, 4 On¬ 
ward, forever onward! ’ They cannot waste time 
in turning about and retracing their path! 

44 Mr. Stickleback is not very particular about 
the outside appearance of his walls. They are, in 
truth, quite shaggy, but inside only the finest 
and softest grasses are used and the cement is 
4 troweled ’ to the smoothest possible surface. 
There must be nothing to hurt the delicate bodies 
of the young Sticklebacks. Fortunately the eggs 
hatch without being kept warm! Father Stickle¬ 
back, energetic as he is, could never sit on them 
with equanimity. Besides there is another ardu- * 
ous duty to be performed! Because of their un¬ 
derwater surroundings, the eggs must be aerated 
to supply sufficient oxygen, and Father Stickle¬ 
back is obliged to turn himself into an animated 
electrical fan. For ten days and nights he vigor- 


124 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


ously fans the precious eggs with his fins, leaving 
only when obliged to drive away intruders, and 
forced to depend for a living on what food chance 
sends his way. But notwithstanding that he 
might well have tired of the job, when the babies 
presently appear, he mounts guard with solici¬ 
tous care. Every now and then he pokes his head 
in the window to make sure that all is right. As 
the youngsters come on, they get frisky and ad¬ 
venturous, as young things will, you know. But, 
if any of them ventures outside, they get sent 
back in a hurry. Father Stickleback knows only 
too well how many hungry mouths there are in 
waiting, and he does not intend that any of them 
shall be filled at the expense of his children. So 
the little Sticklebacks must content themselves as 
best they may until they have grown strong and 
brave like their sire. 

“ There are some dozen or so types of stickle¬ 
backs. The sea stickleback is the largest of the 
clan, often measuring a trifle over six inches. 
The nest of this species is not built on the sea¬ 
floor; that would usually be at a depth too great 
even for the courageous sticklebacks. Instead, 
it is always firmly attached to seaweed alongside 
some overhanging rock or bank. One species, 
the nine-spined stickleback, builds a nest much 
like the oriole’s pocket.” 

“We have in the bird world one family of ce- 


A CEMENT WORKER 


125 


ment workers whose nest is glued together 
stickleback style/’ said Auntie in her turn. “ It 
is that of the chimney-swift, or chimney-swallow, 
as it is often wrongly called. The chimney-swift 
is no kin at all of the swallow family which de¬ 
lights in stringing their adobe homes along under 
our eaves. It is a cousin of the nighthawk and 
the whippoorwill, and its name chimney-swift il¬ 
lustrates one of the few instances of real aptness 
in bird christening. The nests are commonly 
constructed in unused chimneys; hence the first 
part of the name. And swift is added in token 
of the birds’ wonderful powers of flight and en¬ 
durance. They have often been known to travel 
a thousand miles in a single night and day. 
Their flight is a peculiar rowing motion, not 
graceful, but very sure and powerful. The birds 
are sooty gray and about an inch shorter than 
the English sparrow, but their long wings ex¬ 
tending way beyond their funny spiked tail make 
them seem much larger. Their feet are strong 
and muscular with very sharp claws, and as they 
cling to the sides of the chimney they prop them¬ 
selves woodpecker-wise by their tails, suggesting 
that they might have been thrown like a pin-dart 
and stuck. 

“ Nearly the whole day is spent searching the 
air for flying insects. If no chimneys are to be 
had, the swifts will content themselves in a hollow 


126 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


tree, or in belfries and cupolas. Here the night 
is spent, the very air often being black with the 
colony returning at eveningtide; and here the 
nests are made in lattice effect with twigs broken 
off by the birds while in flight, and fastened to¬ 
gether and to the support with a sticky substance 
from the builder’s mouth. Five or six pure white 
eggs are laid for a sitting, and usually two broods 
are hatched in a season. So you see that similar¬ 
ity in craftsmanship is the only thing that swifts 
and sticklebacks have in common, unless we ex¬ 
cept their remarkable courage and endurance 
and the business-like way in which their children 
are reared. It is said that the parent swifts cau¬ 
tiously crowd their little ones from the nest to 
teach them to cling to the walls and learn the 
proper use of claws, wings, and tail.” 


SOME HOUSE-BOAT BUILDERS 


44 Miss King gave us The Chambered Nautilus 
to learn to-day/ 5 said Alice. “ At first it seemed 
awfully hard, but after she had told us about this 
little creature of the ocean, I got at it better.” 

“ Is it not queer how the nautilus grows by 
building a 4 more stately mansion 5 all the time? ” 
queried Tommy. 44 Just imagine walling up 
one’s old den with a curved plate of pearl and 
moving into newer and larger quarters! They 
say that empty nautilus shells of many chambers 
are often cast up by the sea. That is how the 
little animal comes by the name 4 the chambered 
nautilus/ In some places it is known as the 
pearly nautilus.” 

44 And a beautiful shell it has,” said Auntie. 
44 But not more beautiful than that of the paper 
nautilus, which has a lovely white-fluted shell, so 
thin and transparent that it shows the dainty rose 
and silver tints of the body beneath.” 

44 One of the strangest things about the nau¬ 
tilus,” observed Alice, 44 is that it is not fastened 
to its shell. Neither does it quite fill it. Its shell 

is just a dainty little house-boat in which it floats 

127 


128 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


through its watery domains. But instead of go¬ 
ing forward it goes backward! Sometimes it 
crawls on the floor of the sea head downward with 
its shell on its back.” 

“ The real use of the shell, however,” said 
Auntie, “is to serve as a cradle for the little 
ones, for it is only the mother nautilus that is 
provided with a shell. In this lovely floating 
cradle the babies are safe from the many dangers 
of the ocean.” 

“We have an interesting little house-boat 
builder much nearer and better known than the 
nautilus,” Uncle John now remarked. “ She has 
been receiving considerable attention the last few 
years. I wonder if you can guess her. When 
she wishes to travel about over the sands, she 
carries her boat on her back. Although not a 
swift traveler, she often goes a considerable dis¬ 
tance. I saw her footprints down by the boat¬ 
house this very afternoon. She-” 

“ Ah, it’s a snail, Uncle John,” exclaimed 

Ruth, disappointedly. “ I-” 

“It isn’t either, Miss; don’t interrupt,” 
Tommy cried scornfully, himself unmindful, in 
spite of all Grandmother’s warnings, that “ Ex¬ 
ample is better than precept.” “ Who ever pays 
any attention to a snail! ” 

“ Has but one foot,” Uncle John continued 
serenely, wisely ignoring these “ asides.” “ And 




HOUSE-BOAT BUILDERS 129 

this is such a queer shape perhaps you wouldn't 
even think of calling it a foot. It is merely a 
soft cone-like mass of flesh, sticking out between 
the two walls of the house. And in order to 
stand upright the creature is obliged to sink the 
broad end of its dwelling deep into the sand. 
This it is that leaves the curious, weaving deep- 
pocked line which marks her trail. 

“ If you observe this little creature’s house 
closely, you will find that it has an ideal system 
of drainage. In the end opposite the foot are 
two peculiar openings; water comes in at one and 
goes out at the other. This avenue also provides 
for ventilation, supplying all the air the little ani¬ 
mal needs. The outlet is fitted with a very fine 
sieve, which carefully strains out the food the 
creature requires. And a very dainty appetite 
she has! For the food she loves consists of such 
small organisms that human folks can see them 
only with the aid of a magnifying glass. 

“ A startling fact about this creature is that 
she has no head. She can hear a little and smell 
a little by means of nerves. But sight and smell 
as we know them are altogether unknown to her. 
There are teeth, but thev are not located in the 
mouth, and she uses them for a business alto¬ 
gether foreign to the usual purpose of teeth. She 
locks her door with them! And a very depend¬ 
able lock they make. If you succeed in breaking 


130 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


into her house, you will see these teeth in uneven 
projections on either side of the door hinge, and 
so arranged that the teeth on one side fit into 
those on the other. 

“ This wise mother keeps her tiny triangular- 
shaped babies close in the house-boat with her 
through the summer months. And as they grow 
things become rather messy and crowded, for 
often there are as many as a thousand of these 
babies at a time! In early winter the mother 
sends them off to see the world, and as they rush 
out the door they are in such haste to be gone 
that the water near them looks quite milky. 

“ All about are a host of hungry neighbors— 
tadpoles, frogs, water bugs of all kinds, fishes, 
dragon-fly children, and perhaps ducks or geese 
and some one of the snipe family or others of the 
water birds, which wade about looking for just 
such food as this small creature’s children. So 
there are perils of all sorts to be avoided, and the 
babies are well-nigh helpless among them. Some 
are snapped up at once, others are trodden deep 
into the mud and smothered, still others swim 
haphazardly about and presently die of neglect 
and go to the bottom, there to feed the countless 
creatures which are nosing about. But a good 
many manage to settle on or near the fins of a 
passing fish, and snuggle down in content. For 
the fish is a kind host, but perhaps not an 


HOUSE-BOAT BUILDERS 131 

altogether unselfish one. He knows these tiny 
morsels will be delicious eating by and by. So 
he throws a thin, colorless covering over them, 
which protects them like a capsule. And there 
they spend the winter, using him as a sort of 
house-boat, and growing in their odd transparent 
nest as thriftily as the baby moth does in its silken 
cocoon. 

“ When the tiny creatures have come to look 
just like their mother in everything but size, they 
leave their good friend and set out to take 
their chances in the water world again. This 
time they are more able to fend for themselves. 
Indeed, they are so far grown up that they begin 
at once to look about for a location to settle down 
in, where they can begin to fashion a house-boat 
of their own. Moreover, the muddier the site the 
better! The sea-going cousins of the species have 
long siphons which they can shorten or lengthen 
at will. They are fond of burrowing deep in wet 
sand, with only just their siphon mouths sticking 
out to glean food from the tides as they wash 
above them. 

“ As our friend works, she is fond of leaving 
her doors wide open. And, as you may imagine, 
sometimes strange things come wandering in,— 
a frog’s foot, a bird’s toe, or perchance the toe of 
a boy. Then snap goes the door, and you may 
guess what happens! Often a few grains of sand 


132 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 

lodge in the creature’s body, and then a miracle 
begins-” 

“ Oh, I know, Uncle John,” Ruth again in¬ 
terrupted excitedly. “ It’s an oyster! Not the 
miracle,—that’s a pearl. But it’s an oyster you 
are describing.” 

“ No, it isn’t,” assured Uncle John, stoutly. 

“ Of course not,” affirmed Tommy. “No one 
ever saw an oyster down by our boat-house! And 
Uncle John said he saw this creature’s trail there 
this morning! Subside, chicken.” 

Ruth obligingly clapped her hands over her 
mouth, but it was plain from her dancing eyes 
that she had another guess coming. 

“ As soon as the little creature feels the irrita¬ 
tion of the sand,” continued Uncle John, “ she 
throws over it a thin, milky substance called 
nacre. Thus penned in, the sand and the nacre 
together at length turn into a beautiful pearl. 
And it is to get the pearls that thousands of these 
little creatures’ homes are taken from our rivers, 
lakes, and ponds each year. Indeed, along the 
Mississippi River more than one thousand people 
are at this work all the summer long. . . . 

Now, what is it? ” 

“ A clam! 39 shouted Ruth. 

“ Yes, a clam,” agreed Uncle John, “ or 
more properly speaking a mussel. Clams are 
really creatures of the sea. They differ con- 



HOUSE-BOAT BUILDERS 133 

siderably in structure and habits from the 
mussel.” 

“ I was reading about them yesterday,” said 
Tommy. “And they surely are an interesting 
set! Why, just think of it! Giant clams of 
Japan have valves nearly two yards long and 
weigh over five hundred pounds. The Indians 
made their famous wampum from the beautiful 
purple shell of our best-known clam, the quahog, 
the young of which appear on elegant menus as 
‘ Little Necks.’ And then there’s the beautiful 
‘ bear’s paw ’ of the Indian Ocean, all mottled 
with gorgeous splotches of red and yel¬ 
low. . . . Oh, I could tell you yards about 

clams! ” 

“ Save them for the story hour,” advised Alice. 
“ I want to know more about the fresh water 
mussels. How long has fishing for pearls of this 
type been going on? ” 

“ I believe the first great mussel pearl was 
found in the State of New Jersey in 1857,” in¬ 
formed Uncle John. “ It was called the ‘ Queen 
Pearl ’ and was sold to the Empress Eugenia for 
$2,500. It is now worth about four times that 
sum. The mussels of the Mississippi River and 
its tributaries have yielded so many pearls that a 
fine trade in the pearls of fresh-water mussels has 
sprung up. I think you can find considerable 
about this in the encyclopedia. Your father once 


134 


NATURE S CRAFTSMEN 


spent a vacation pearl gathering near Macgregor, 
Iowa. It was quite a fad in those days. Get 
him to tell you all the ins and outs of the business. 

“ Large mussels will not live in an aquarium, 
Tommy, but if you could get hold of a few babies 
this winter, you might get a lot of amusement 
studying their habits. But you must be careful 
not to put them where the crayfish and water 
beetles can get at them. In the water as on the 
land the supreme rule of the little people is al¬ 
ways ‘ He lives longest who is strongest.’ ” 


OTHER FAMOUS BUILDERS 


“ See the coral necklace Grandmother sent for 
my dolly! ” cried Ruth, joining the others on the 
wide porch where a rain had kept them all the 
long afternoon. “ Don’t you think it is just too 
cute? ” 

“ It certainly has a beautiful color and polish,” 
smiled Alice. “ Imagine going coral fishing! 
Red coral comes from the Mediterranean, doesn’t 
it, Auntie? ” 

“ The best of it does, I believe,” replied Miss 
Merry hew. “ There are coral farms off the Al¬ 
gerian coast that are divided into ten parts, and 
one part is fished each year. Thus you see it 
takes ten years to grow a coral harvest. The 
value of the coral depends upon its size and color, 
rose-pink being the most valuable. This some¬ 
times brings several hundred dollars an ounce, 
while ordinary red pieces are worth only about 
ten dollars an ounce. This doll’s necklace was 
made from small bits, which sell at only a few 
cents an ounce. Black coral probably brings the 
highest price of all, but it is very rare. 

“ Coral has been used for jewelry since the 

earliest times. The ancient Gauls used red coral 

135 


136 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


to ornament their weapons and helmets. The 
Romans made coral necklaces for their children 
in the belief that the coral preserved them from 
danger, and even in Italy to-day coral is worn to 
keep off the evil-eye.” 

“What is coral, anyway, Auntie?” asked 
Ruth. 

“ It is the skeletons of some of the most beauti¬ 
ful and interesting animals of the sea. Their 
home is in the deep water of the warm ocean, and 
they are such delicate creatures that it is impos¬ 
sible to take them from their home alive. In the 
living coral the skeleton is covered with soft flesh 
and all over the surface are tiny starlike animals 
called polyps. Each one of these polyps live in 
a tiny cup or hollow in the skeleton, and even one 
small branch may hold as many as a million of 
these tiny homes. It takes countless numbers of 
polyps to make up a coral family. 

“ Inside the little cups are partitions that do 
not quite reach the center. The stomach of the 
animal hangs down between these walls. In the 
center is the mouth, and the polyp captures its 
food by means of tentacles and lasso cells. Baby 
polyps are not fastened in one place. They sail 
the ocean until their stomach and tentacles are 
formed, and then a building site is chosen and 
they settle down to build their skeletons. First 
of all, lime is secreted from the sea-water and de- 


OTHER FAMOUS BUILDERS 137 

posited in the soft flesh until the little cup-like 
room with its partitions is formed. After a time 
buds or tiny branch-rooms start out from the 
sides and a coral family is begun. This goes on 
budding and branching until it has become a 
great coral community. As it grows, the lower 
portion dies, and thus the living polyps are found 
only at the top and ends of the branches. 

“ There are many species of coral, but only 
the red, pink and black coral grows in branches 
and is capable of taking on polish. Hence these 
are the only kinds of market value. White coral 
also grows in branched form but is not valuable. 
Coral is found growing in solid masses, in the 
form of beautiful vases, and in odd, tube-like 
clusters. All are gayly ornamented with star- 
like polyps in a variety of colors. Usually the 
warmer the ocean, the more delicate and wonder¬ 
ful the colors. 

“ The organ-pipe coral is one of the most inter¬ 
esting forms. It grows in red or purplish tubes 
connected by flat plates. The polyps are dressed 
in beautiful shades varying from violet to grass- 
green, and make a wonderfully gay appearance 
on their ruddy tubes. These corals are found in 
the Indian and Pacific oceans. The mushroom 
coral looks for all the world like an everyday 
mushroom turned upside down. It is the home 
of a single large polyp. 


138 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


“ To my mind, the most wonderful thing about 
these tiny animals of the sea is their power to 
build islands and great reefs of coral. Perhaps 
you may have heard of the Great Barrier Reef of 
Australia, which is over one thousand miles long, 
or of our own Florida Keys? Considering that 
coral polyps build at the rate of about three 
inches in height per year, think how many years 
of labor must have gone into these! Indeed, it is 
said that the Florida Keys were from one thou¬ 
sand to twelve hundred years in building. 

“ Many kinds of coral polyps take part in the 
building of a reef, some being able to work in one 
depth and some in another. All of them must 
have clean, fresh sea-water, which is never cooler 
than sixty-eight degrees.” 

“ They certainly are wonderful little animals,” 
said Ruth, when her aunt had ended; “and I 
shall like coral all the more after this.” 


A BAND OF TIRELESS HUNTERS 


“ Shh ! ” The warning was sharp and full of 
portent. 

Alice, coming singing up the garden path, 
stopped instantly and turned to spy the heads of 
Tommy and Max thrust around a screening 
hedge of lilacs. One of Max’s pudgy fingers 
beckoned insistently, and she went smilingly to 
obey the summons, tiptoeing softly. 

“ There’s a tiger, a vicious little black and red 
tiger, right over there in that clump of snap¬ 
dragon,” the lad whispered intently, as she 
stooped beside him. “ Tommy and I have been 
watching it for half an hour, and you never saw 
such a bloodthirsty little creature. It has killed 
a spider, a granddaddy, three or four ants, some 
flies, and a stink bug, and still it longs for more. 
Regular little old pirate I Ha, see him; he is 
after another spider! ” 

Quick as a flash a little bug, not more than 
three-quarters of an inch in length and curiously 
marked with red and black, dashed out from 
cover, and one could well fancy the frightened, 

dismayed gasp of its prey. The struggle was 

139 


140 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


brief, for the spider, taken all unawares, received 
a cruel poisonous thrust in a vital part and suc¬ 
cumbed with scarcely an attempt at defense. 
The bug, without a pause or a backward glance, 
promptly returned to hiding and composed itself 
for another spring. 

“The heartless little wretch!” Alice ejacu¬ 
lated. “ It never took even one single bite. It 
kills for the very love of killing. I never heard 
of such an unprincipled little assassin.” 

“ Ha!” cried Tommy, slapping his leg delight¬ 
edly. “ You’ve named, it. I remember now of 
reading about the assassin bug just the other day. 
The writer said that the little butcher often killed 
his prey without even so much as tasting it, or 
perhaps sucked just a little of the choicest parts 
and left the remainder for the carrion eaters. 
About the time of Jack Frost’s arrival in the au¬ 
tumn they cluster together in companies, just as 
the little red and black dotted ladybirds do, and 
seek out some shelter where they may sleep over 
the winter. A stone or bit of bark will do, but 
they prefer to get into cracks and crevices in the 
house. 

“ The assassin bugs are our friends. We can 
feel sure of that by the number of insects they 
kill. True, the little tiger we have been watch¬ 
ing has laid out a host of our friends this time. 
It-” 



A BAND OF HUNTERS 


141 


“ You wouldn’t term the stink bug a friend, 
would you? ” Max interrupted quickly. 

“ Well,” said Tommy slowly, “ we seldom ac¬ 
knowledge it as one, and yet when it prowls 
around over our berries, it is after insects that eat 
the fruit. Ordinarily, too, as I was going on to 
say, the assassin bug eats aphids, harmful cater¬ 
pillars and such like. But he never stops for 
class or size when his blood is up; they say he will 
tackle any animal and have his toll in blood, if no 
more. One species has a liking for human blood, 
and following the general tactics of the clan it 
prefers to steal in and take its victim off guard. 
Somehow it has learned that folks get into beds 
to sleep; so it does not hesitate to hide under the 
covers and wait for the sleepers. In some places 
they are real pests, and have earned the name of 
giant bedbugs. Science terms them the blood¬ 
sucking cone-nose. It is said that these creatures 
are nearly always to be found in the nests of field- 
mice. 

“Another member of the clan has a special ap¬ 
petite for the true bedbugs. It is said that a col¬ 
ony of them turned loose in an infested house will 
clean out the bedbugs root and branch. Bedbug 
killer it is called. But it also feeds eagerly on 
flies and cockroaches. The young of this tribe is 
an adept at camouflaging. It creeps about in 
dusty places and painstakingly covers its brown 


142 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


coat liberally with fuzz and lint. It is not so 
easily noticed that way and thus escapes being 
used for food by the hungry creatures which may 
pass by. When it gains strength enough to defy 
its enemies, it boldly casts off its dusty armor and 
goes out for blood.” 

“ If you will remind me in the morning,” said 
Uncle John, after listening to the tale of the tiger 
at the supper table, 44 1 will show you a cluster of 
assassin babies. I saw a whole family of them 
yesterday, grouped at the base of a red maple 
twig. They are about as big as a pin-head, and 
so nearly the color of the young leaves that I all 
but passed them by. I suspect they are getting 
their living from the aphids which are usually 
pretty plenty about the young leaves. As they 
grow older, the young assassins will lose a large 
portion of their red color. It is just a kindly 
provision of Mother Nature for protection in 
their helpless stage. 

“Assassin bugs are powerful in flight, and 
travel about as suits their pleasure. Their lairs 
are everywhere in the trees and in the grass, and 
their methods are so stealthy that though their 
prey is often much larger than themselves there 
is little chance of escape. Their weapon is their 
terrible beak which pierces through and through. 
Useful as are the little assassins to man, it be¬ 
hooves us to give them a wide berth. Nearly all 


143 


A BAND OF HUNTERS 

of them have a beakful of poison, and their bite 
causes a painful swelling, and sometimes serious 
illness. Some ten or twelve years ago the papers 
made a good deal of a kissing-bug scare that 
spread over the country like wild-fire. It was oc¬ 
casioned by one of these human-blood lovers hav¬ 
ing bitten a young woman on the lip; even Aunt 
Ruth here was afraid to go outside for many 
weeks. Two species of the clan have been termed 
kissing bugs. They are found from the Central 
Mississippi valley to the tropics, and are thought 
to breed in the nests of mice just as their kin the 
giant bedbugs do. They fly mostly at dusk and 
in the early eveningtide. 

“ One of the commonest assassin bugs in the 
South is that known as the wheel bug. The ne¬ 
groes term it the devil’s riding horse. I haven’t 
seen one for some time. Perhaps because I 
haven’t been specially watching. We used to see 
their odd-looking eggs attached to the bark of 
trees and on old rail fences in the late fall and 
winter. They are like tiny leather milk bottles, 
grouped in hexagonal clusters, some seventy or 
more in the lot. Each bottle is capped with a 
tight-fitting lid which the young bug pushes off 
when it is ready to come out in late spring. It is 
a queer-looking creature, with a blood-red abdo¬ 
men and thorax sprinkled with black. As it 
walks it curves up its abdomen in a funny hitch- 


144 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


ing style. Its food at first is plant lice and other 
soft-bodied creatures, but as it grows larger and 
stronger it attacks larger insects, and when full 
grown is a great slaughterer of the caterpillars 
which feed on the foliage of trees. The bugs are 
not truly grown up until after the fourth moult, 
at which time they lose their red protective colors 
and appear in dull black, developing also a pecu¬ 
liar crest on their thorax by which scientists know 
them as the crested assassins. The shape of this 
crest is a half-circular cog-wheel with nine teeth; 
hence the popular name of wheel bug. 

“ There are more than one hundred and fifty 
kinds of assassin bugs in the United States. All 
are about the same size and shape, though vari¬ 
ously colored. Their murderous beak fitted for 
piercing and sucking characterizes them. All of 
the tribe exists over the winter in queer-shaped 
eggs, and the young are shielded by protective 
coloring and various dust and web camouflages. 
A certain species called the thread-legged bug, or 
Emesa longpipes, is one of the oddest specimens 
imaginable. It has enormously long thin legs, 
and as it creeps along in search of prey it seems to 
thrust its narrow pipe-like body up and down. 
The longpipes is an artful brigand which haunts 
the vicinity of spiders’ webs, maliciously cutting 
down the ‘ meat ’ which the weavers hang for 
their own use. 


A BAND OF HUNTERS 


145 


“ The assassin bugs are about the only friends 
of man in the great and numerous clan to which 
they belong—the Hemiptera numbering around 
twenty thousand species. Their kindred are lice, 
scales, tree hoppers—which, by the way, are the 
real brownies in their odd horned, peaked, or 
three-cornered caps—the aphids, chinch bugs, 
and like pests which prey upon plants and men, 
biting their tissues and sucking their life blood. 
Root and branch they are such an injurious, ob¬ 
noxious race that Sharp, in writing of them, says: 
‘ If anything were to exterminate the enemies of 
the Hemiptera, we ourselves should probably be 
starved in the course of a few months.’ And it is 
only too true; for rapidly as these pests multiply 
and as tireless as they are in the hunt, they would 
soon possess the face of the earth.” 

“Apropos,” said Father, “ I was reading the 
other day that entomologists have discovered a 
way to wipe out chinch bugs with chinch bugs. 
It seems that there is a plague which when once 
loosed among them kills them by the million. So, 
when the government officials get word that the 
chinch bugs are on a rampage in any particular 
territory, they ship in sick bugs by the box full. 
Shortly the disease spreads among the marauders 
and the foe is vanquished.” 

“ One of our best natural enemies of the chinch 
bug is the quail, isn’t it? ” asked Tommy. “And 


146 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


that reminds me, did I tell you of the little family 
I saw yesterday? I was coming home from 
Daddy Thornton’s up across the cornfield, going 
sly, with an eye open for whatever I might meet, 
when I stumbled upon the prettiest sight I’ve 
ever seen—a mother quail and some twenty-five 
or thirty of the heartiest, fluffiest, bright-eyed lit¬ 
tle babies. Mrs. Bob never even had a hint of 
me, and she was rustling grub for dear life. She 
would give an odd little cry which I soon learned 
meant: ‘Watch, now; keep your eyes open . 9 
Then she would jump up against a stalk, and 
beat it sharply with her wings. Instantly a 
shower of bugs would fall, and such a scramble 
as there was then among the babies! I watched 
the busy little crew for a half hour or more, and 
you don’t know how glad I was, Father, that you 
have always insisted that no one should hunt 
quail on our farm.” 


SOME NOTED BEACON BEARERS 


“ Tommy! ” exclaimed Mother, aghast, “ how 
in the world did you get that great gash in your 
foot, child? ” 

“ Why-ee,” the lad returned, startled, “ I—I 
didn’t! ” and he lifted his bare foot for examina¬ 
tion. 

Instantly there was a shout of laughter from 
those assembled on the moonlit porch; for what 
seemed to be a gaping wound was the shining 
beacon of a firefly or lightning bug which the boy 
had accidentally ground into his heel. 

“ Well,” ejaculated Tommy, regarding the 
“wreckage” in rueful surprise, “ I thought every 
firefly that had wings was in the air to-night! ” 

“So they are, boy,” returned Uncle John, 
quickly; “ the poor creature which met its fate at 
your hands—or I should say heels —had not yet 
shaken out its wings. It was probably fresh 
from its cocoon in the earth. Or perchance it 
was not a firefly at all, but its close kin, the glow¬ 
worm. Indeed, from the extent of its luminos¬ 
ity, I should judge the latter to be the case. As 
the time draws near for the glowworm weddings, 

the male glowworms develop wings and take to 

147 


148 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 

the air. The females, poor things, never know 
the joy of flight. They are doomed to keep their 
larval shape for aye, but they will not be deprived 
of lovers. So they proceed at once to kindle a 
blazing beacon which shines with a glorious white 
light, tinged with blue, plainly advertising their 
presence from afar. We often see them glowing 
in the grass like bits of starshine, and twinkling 
almost as rapidly as the stars themselves. 

“ Catch one of the little coquettes, and we are 
surprised to And that the beacons are kindled on 
the lower surface of the abdomen, and hence must 
face the ground. How then is it that we catch 
their little gleam? But wait! Put the little 
glower back in the grass; like all females since 
the days of Eden she has her wiles. Watch her 
twist about. First she jerks her flexible abdo¬ 
men this way, then that. The beacon’s light 
flashes like a signaling mirror. It cannot help, 
sooner or later, attracting the eye of every swain 
in the neighborhood, for these fellows are pro¬ 
vided with an optical apparatus which rivals the 
famous eye of Cyclops. It is a double-lensed 
affair filling almost the whole face and protected 
by a peaked cap or shade which aids him to focus 
his vision on a limited area at a time. Indeed, 
so thorough and intent is his gaze that probably 
the tiniest luminous streak would be sufficient to 
guide him. 


NOTED BEACON BEARERS 149 


“ The round white eggs when laid are strewn 
at random on the ground or on a blade of grass. 
Mrs. Glowworm takes no interest in them, for in 
her bosom is no spark of family ties or affection. 
The eggs shine like tiny specks of quicksilver, 
and in a very short time the young are out, each 
with their two little rushlights on their tail. Their 
prey is earthworms and snails, and they have the 
most voracious appetites. At the approach of 
Jack Frost they burrow in the ground and re¬ 
main hidden until the warm days of late spring 
lure them forth. 

“ The glowworm is not actually a worm, by 
the bye, but belongs to the beetle family. None 
but a Fabre or Savarin would ever think of say¬ 
ing to the glowworm: ‘ Show me what you eat 
and I will tell you what you are.’ But the old 
naturalist, knowing that ‘ The data supplied by 
food are the chief of all the documents of life,’ 
canvassed the case thoroughly and set down the 
facts. ‘ In spite of his innocent appearance,’ he 
tells us, ‘ the Lampyris (or lantern-bearer) is 
an eater of flesh, a hunter of game; and he fol¬ 
lows his calling with rare villainy.’ But merci¬ 
fully, too, as we see, for the glowworm adminis¬ 
ters an anaesthetic: he chloroforms his victim be¬ 
fore setting to work to eat him. Furthermore, 
there is included with this strange numbing secre¬ 
tion, which is injected in various little jabs, a sort 


150 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


of pepsin that turns the flesh into a liquid which 
the glowworm sucks up, feeding it may be for 
days and days at the same table. 

“ This ability to turn flesh to liquid is not the 
glowworms’ alone. The burying beetles have it; 
so, too, do the bluebottles, the greenbottles, and 
the big gray flesh flies. You may perhaps have 
seen some of these little carrion lovers at their re¬ 
pulsive feast. You turned shudderingly away, 
of course, and yet the service which these scav¬ 
engers render is of inestimable value. They help 
to return to the earth with all speed the remains 
of that which has lived; they give back to Mother 
Earth an essence which enriches her soil, and at 
the same time they do away with a loathsome ob¬ 
ject, which if left would pollute the air all around, 
spreading disease and death. 

“ The tools with which the glowworm performs 
his wonders are simple enough. They are merely 
two hollow little fangs, much like the spears 
which our friend Madam Doodlebug uses to 
thrust into the ants which she entraps in her 
clever wells. But the ant-lion, as we know, 
merely sucks the blood of her captive and tosses 
his carcass out over her head on to the rubbish 
heap. The glowworm, using the same tools, is 
more efficient; by reason of the addition of its 
liquefying pepsin it is enabled to make a clean 
sweep. No plate washed in our kitchen was ever 


NOTED BEACON BEARERS 151 

cleaner to all outward appearance than a small 
shell drained by the Lampyris. 

“Feeding upon such a questionable diet, one 
would expect the glowworm itself to be a rather 
messy-looking individual. Nothing is farther 
from the truth. For the little creature has on its 
hind quarters a combined wash-rag and clothes- 
brush, which it uses with scrupulous care after 
each contact with its evil-smelling mollusc tubs 
and what not. And so flexible is its body that 
not a part of its anatomy is missed in the scrub¬ 
bing and dusting. A glowworm’s toilet is never 
by any chance * a lick and a promise.’ Indeed, I 
could mention various persons who do not take 
anything like the pains with their toilet that the 
little lantern-bearers do! 

“ Their clothes-brush also performs another 
valued service. It is made up of twelve little 
tubular fingers which are capable either of being 
spread out like a rosette or gathered up in a little 
cluster. When the Lampyris climbs a stalk in 
search of prey, it opens wide its sticky rosette and 
spreads it out to keep itself from slipping and 
falling. The rosette further serves as a sort of 
propeller, for by opening and closing, it aids the 
lantern-bearer to hitch itself along after the man¬ 
ner of a cripple in a wheeled chair. 

“An interesting cousin of the fireflies and glow¬ 
worms is the railway beetle of South America. 


152 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


This strange creature flashes a red light at each 
end of the body, and a green light along the sides. 
Another South American beetle is a favorite 
among the natives as a hair ornament, because of 
its flashing yellow light. Certain luminous bee¬ 
tles and fireflies are imprisoned in punched 
gourds and cocoanut shells and used by various 
wild peoples in lieu of lanterns. As you may im¬ 
agine, however, these ingenious lanterns give lit¬ 
tle light. The click beetles, which you boys like 
to turn over on their backs for the mere fun of 
listening to them click as they right themselves, 
are other members of the beacon-bearer clan. 
Their larvse are the pestiferous wireworms which 
eat our potatoes, carrots, and beets, and do dam¬ 
age under the bark of trees. 

“ Most of the beacon-bearers are easily reared 
in captivity. Seems to me I never saw more of 
them abroad than are to be seen to-night. Their 
tiny lanterns are flashing everywhere. What do 
you say, boys, let’s get a few specimens.” 



© International Newsreel 


THE SOUTH AMERICAN “LIGHTNING GRASSHOPPER” 






































AN INTERESTING LITTLE HOUSE 

BUILDER 


Uncle John and the children had been away 
for an all-day tramp, and the things which they 
brought home would, as Mother dryly observed, 
have “ cluttered up a museum! ” 

“ Give us time, Lucy,” her brother smiled boy¬ 
ishly, “ and we will have them all labeled and 
tucked away in first-class house-keepy fashion. 
Such hosts of story topics and illustrations as we 
have, mostly along lines pertaining to our little 
craftsmen neighbors.” 

“ If you are going to talk about them,” put in 
Ruth eagerly, “ tell about mine. You said you 
would this evening.” 

“All right, honey,” agreed Uncle John, set¬ 
tling comfortably into a big easy-chair. “ I sup¬ 
pose we might as well get that off our hands the 
first thing,” and from his pocket he produced a 
shell w T hich brought a howl of derision from the 
boys. 

“A snail shell,” ejaculated Max. “ We' all 
know about snails.” 

“ It isn’t either, smarty,” his small sister re- 

153* 


154 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 

turned in tart defense. “ You said it was Mrs. 
Helix, didn’t you, Uncle John? ” 

“ I did,” her uncle confirmed briefly, “ that is 
the name she always has engraved upon her vis¬ 
iting cards. Before starting her life history, 
however, if the court pleases, I would like to re¬ 
cite a bit of old-time verse,” and he gave the fol¬ 
lowing: 

THE CATERPILLAR AND THE ANT 

A pens} 7 Ant, right trig and clean, 

Came ae day whidding o’er the green, 

Where, to advance her pride, she saw 
A Caterpillar, moving slaw. 

“ Good ev’n’t ye, Mistress Ant,” said he; 

66 How’s a’ at hame? I’m blyth to s’ye.” 

The saucy Ant view’d him wi’ scorn, 

Nor wad civilities return; 

But gecking up her head, quoth she, 

“ Poor animal! I pity thee; 

Wha scarce can claim to be a creature, 

But some experiment o’ Nature, 

Whase silly shape displeased her eye, 

And thus unfinish’d was flung bye. 

For me, I’m made wi’ better grace, 

Wi’ active limbs and lively face; 

And cleverly can move wi’ ease 
Frae place to place where’er I please; 

Can foot a minuet or jig, 

And snoov’t like ony whirly-gig; 

Which gars my jo aft grip my hand, 

Till his heart pitty-pattys, and— 

But laigh my qualities I bring, 

To stand up clashing wi’ a thing, 


A LITTLE HOUSE BUILDER 155 


A creeping thing the like o’ thee, 

Not worthy o’ a farewell t’ ye.” 

The airy Ant syne turned awa, 

And left him wi’ a proud gaff a. 

The Caterpillar was struck dumb, 

And never answered her a mum: 

The humble reptile fand some pain, 

Thus to be banter’d wi’ disdain. 

But tent neist time the Ant came by, 

The worm was grown a Butterfly; 

Transparent were his wings and fair, 

Which bare him flight’ring through the air. 
Upon a flower he stapt his flight, 

And thinking on his former slight, 

Thus to the Ant himself addrest: 

66 Pray, Madam, will ye please to rest? 

And notice what I now advise: 

Inferiors ne’er too much despise, 

For fortune may gie sic a turn, 

To raise aboon ye what ye scorn': 

For instance, now I spread my wing 
In air, while you’re a creeping thing.” 

—Allan Ramsay. 

The boys looked at one another a bit shame¬ 
facedly as he finished. “ But, nevertheless, 
Uncle John, the thing is a snail shell,” defended 
Tommy, as a smile went the rounds. 

“ To be sure. Mrs. Helix is the dignified 
name, as I said. On everyday occasions we speak 
of the occupant just as Mrs. Snail. But don’t 
imagine she is not interesting and important, 
Ruthie. Of all the queer little people that go 
plodding through the world on one foot, carrying 


156 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 

their house on their back, Mrs. Helix is the very 
queerest. Just imagine: her head is in her foot, 
her eyes are located in her horns, and her teeth 
are in her tongue! ” 

“ Honestly? ” queried Ruth, divided in what to 
believe. 

“ Cross my heart,” assured Uncle John sol¬ 
emnly, “ and that is only a beginning. Snails do 
their eating and traveling, too, almost entirely by 
night. We often find their shells, emptied by 
who knows what tragedy. But we are not so apt 
to stumble upon the snails themselves. They 
have hiding-places under leaves, rocks, and logs, 
and around the roots of trees and bushes, and 
they well know when to keep hidden. The gar¬ 
den snails thrive best in damp places and are hap¬ 
piest along shady walks in old gardens. There 
are several varieties of snails, but whether they 
live in garden, field, or woods, pond or sea, their 
general make-up is pretty much the same. 

“ The snail’s body is a jelly-like mass, and 
when it pleases can be drawn securely into the 
shell. The entire lower part of the body is its 
foot; so, you see, the snail has a very good under¬ 
standing. This foot is, in truth, a creeping disk, 
which is cleverly arranged to oil itself by means 
of a sort of mucous which issues from an opening 
in the bottom. By drawing up the foot and set¬ 
ting it down again sharply the snail manages to 



© International Newsreel 







r A LITTLE HOUSE BUILDER 157 

carry itself forward literally by stamping its foot, 
a method which seldom avails in the human 
world. It is not a swift traveler; indeed ‘ a 
snail’s pace ’ is proverbially known as the very 
slowest of movement. But by keeping steadily 
on, the little creatures make progress eventually; 
some snails even manage to climb trees. Their 
sense of touch is most acute, and here is the 
strange part, the snail feels with its eyes! These 
eyes, as we have said, are in the horns, and when 
a snail draws in its horns it really shuts its eyes. 
It has a keen sense of smell, but it has no nose. 
Scientists believe that the skin somehow serves as 
an organ not only of smell but of taste as well. 
The snails breathe from a lung sac. Most pond 
snails are obliged to come to the top of the water 
every few minutes for air. A few of them, how¬ 
ever, breathe as the sea snails do, by means of 
gills. 

“ The snail is strictly a vegetarian. In early 
spring its food is tender green plants; later dead 
and dry leaves are made to serve. Its tongue is 
a sort of ribbon covered with little points that ac¬ 
complish the purpose of teeth. When it eats, the 
food is pressed against the teeth and rasped off 
very cleverly and neatly. The snail never needs 
to go to the dentist; its teeth are renewed from 
the membrane at the core as rapidly as they wear 
away. 


158 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


“ In the spring the garden snail’s eggs are de¬ 
posited about two inches below the surface of the 
earth. There are anywhere from thirty to one 
hundred of them, and in comparison to the 
mother they are large indeed, being about the size 
of small peas, soft and round and nearly trans¬ 
parent. In about twenty-five days the young 
come forth, looking very much like their mother, 
already having their tiny shells and ready to take 
up the real business of life. 

“ During the dry heat of summer, the land 
snails retire into their shells and close the door by 
a membrane. This odd curtain is another snail 
miracle. It is made by throwing a limy mucous 
out over the opening, much as a soap bubble is 
blown from a pipe. The lime soon hardens, and 
the snail is carefully protected from the elements. 
The same procedure is followed in winter, some¬ 
times as many as five or six layers of membrane 
being formed if the weather is severe. Snails 
have as many lives as a cat. They can stand all 
sorts of rigors and vicissitudes. An instance is 
cited of a pond snail which made a long sea voy¬ 
age packed up in cotton wool. When placed in 
water it promptly revived, came up for air, and 
set about taking in food. 

“ Let me read you a few lines I clipped the 
other day,” and Uncle John produced his ever 
handy note-book: 


A LITTLE HOUSE BUILDER 159 


The frugal snail, with forecast of repose, 

Carries his house with him where’er he goes; 

Peeps out, and if there comes a shower of rain, 
Retreats to his small domicile again. 

Touch but a tip of him, a horn,—’tis well,— 

He curls up in his sanctuary shell. 

He’s his own landlord, his own tenant; stay 
As long as he will, he dreads no quarter-day; 
Himself he boards and lodges; both invites 
And feasts himself; wheresoe’er he roam 
Knock when you will, he’s sure to be at home. 

—Charles Lamb. 

“ This specimen which Ruthie found is no 
empty shell. The little creature is 4 at home.’ 
All we have to do is to knock to be in possession 
of various bits of snail information and illustra¬ 
tions. It is of the garden type. So if you will 
put it on a raised pane of glass, with some pea- 
vine, toadstool, or cabbage for a tempting appe¬ 
tizer, you will soon see the little creature poke out 
a foot. Shortly, if it is satisfied that all is well, 
it will begin to stamp itself along toward the 
food, and you may see it both walk and eat. 

“ None of our little craftsmen builds a dain¬ 
tier, more elegant home than the snail. The shell 
is always a spiral, and there are many different 
sizes and colors. Each turn is called a whorl; 
the largest one is the body whorl. The spaces 
between the whorls are the sutures, and the upper 
part is the spire. The apex is the tiny shell that 


160 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


covered the young snail in the first days of its 
career. How carefully and wisely it builds as 
time goes on! The color of the shell is deter¬ 
mined by the skin covering which protects it care¬ 
fully so long as the little animal lives. This skin 
may be smooth, rough or hairy. The particular 
family to which the snail belongs is distinguished 
by its color, size, and the number of whorls. For 
example, there are two kinds of pond snails, 
known as 4 right-handed,’ and 4 left-handed,’ ac¬ 
cording to the direction which the coil turns from 
the apex. The left-handed species are the most 
numerous in our streams; their scientific name is 
the Physa. They do well in a jar of water, and 
I shall try to find a specimen for you. The eggs 
will be laid in a transparent mass of jelly on the 
side of the glass, and we shall have the pleasure of 
watching the young come forth. The beating of 
the heart is easily seen some hours before the egg 
hatches. I.have often noted pond snail eggs 
sticking to boards and stones in quiet waters. 
Indeed, I would not be greatly surprised if there 
were some clinging to the bottom of our boat 
right now. 

44 Snails are found all over the world. In Eu¬ 
ropean countries, especially in France and Italy, 
several kinds of snails are used for food. They 
are frequently to be seen pictured on the sign¬ 
boards of restaurants. Often the food which 


A LITTLE HOUSE BUILDER 161 

snails eat in their wild state makes them poison¬ 
ous to man; hence it is the custom to have snail 
gardens, where the snails are fed and fattened for 
table use. 

“ Slugs are close kin of the snails. Their 
4 house ’ is the merest apology, being simply a 
plate-like shell buried in the mantle on the back. 
The commonest kind is the small, dark-brown 
specimen seen hiding under boards and logs by 
day. Like the snails, slugs are nocturnal in their 
habits. Across the water they do no little dam¬ 
age to gardens, but in America, aside from the 
occasional ravages of pear, currant, and rose 
slugs, we are little troubled. Slugs are always 
vegetable eaters. They often ascend trees and 
bushes in search of food. When they are ready 
to go down, they spin out a little mucous rope by 
which to lower themselves. Slug eggs are about 
the size of buckshot, and are yellowish and semi¬ 
transparent. They are found in numbers of 
thirty or more massed together in the damp earth 
under a board.” 


A MASTERLY BRIGAND 


“ I came in past the new well in Daddy 
Thornton’s pasture to-day,” observed Uncle 
John, “ and what do you think? A band of 
brigands have domiciled themselves in the big 
mound of clay. Each one has built a watch- 
tower of grass and dirt fastened together with 
silk or of twigs put in place in the same clever 
fashion. I caught the gleam of several wicked¬ 
looking eyes peering out at me, but when I ven¬ 
tured nearer and peeped into the turrets, the rob¬ 
bers had all fled into their strongholds below.” 

“ Hmm! ” said Tommy, shrewdly. “ Weren’t 
you afraid of being stung? They are sand wasps, 
I suppose? ” 

“ No, sir. Sand wasps do not build watch- 
towers. They are wolf spiders, of the species 
particularly known as Lycosa carolinensis, a very 
close kin of the famous tarantulas of Southern 
Europe, whose bite was long supposed to cause a 
peculiar disease called dancing madness. They 
are large hairy creatures, dressed in black velvet 
underneath, with brown stripes on the abdomen, 

and gray and white rings around the legs. 

162 


A MASTERLY BRIGAND 163 


Whether they are really as wicked as rumor cred¬ 
its them is to be doubted. But at all events they 
are to be feared, for their poison fangs are their 
chief and indeed only weapon in killing their 
prey. They have no silken cord to bind their 
victims, as the garden spiders have. Theirs is a 
much riskier job. They must leap courageously 
upon the foe, and strike with all the venom they 
possess. Moreover, they must be keen enough 
to choose a vital spot, for, strong as their poison 
is, it is doubtful if the victim could be killed in¬ 
stantly, unless a nerve center were struck. Fabre 
found that a bite inflicted upon the leg of a fledge¬ 
ling sparrow and, in another instance, upon the 
nose of a mole, resulted in the death of both of 
the innocent victims within a few days. To be 
sure, a poison that would kill a sparrow or a mole 
might not cause death to a human being, but it is 
always wise to play safe.” 

“ I won’t touch one of them,” interposed 
Tommy solemnly, apparently realizing that much 
of this preamble was for his benefit. “ I promise 
you that faithfully. Uncle John. But I suppose 
a fellow may investigate them? ” 

“ With discretion, yes; and you will find them 
wonderfully interesting, too. First: there’s the 
ingenuity of their clever little turrets. These are 
seldom more than an inch high, but they are quite 
tall enough to conceal the little brigand lurking 


164 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


inside, with only its head above the ramparts, its 
diamond-bright eyes watching steadily, its legs 
all gathered for a spring. And the little hunter 
is a monument of patience; often it must hold this 
ready attitude for hours and hours at a stretch. 
For it must wait the accommodation of chance; 
there is nothing about the turret to tempt a vis¬ 
itor, unless, perchance, it may offer an inviting 
ledge on which to rest for a few moments. Sooner 
or later, however, a dragon-fly, a grasshopper, or 
some other delectable tidbit passes that way; 
then, presto! the watcher darts from the tower 
with amazing swiftness, and ere the unsuspect¬ 
ing one can think either of flight or defense, a 
quick thrust in the neck ends its career. 

“No full-grown JLycosa ever springs for a vic¬ 
tim that is beyond its reach. It scorns to chase 
its prey, and it always avoids an unseemly squab¬ 
ble. Well enough it knows that unless it can kill 
at the first thrust, it is quite likely to be worsted 
in the fray. In youth, however, affairs are dif¬ 
ferent. Before reaching a marriageable age, the 
spiderlings roam about like the miniature wolves 
that they are. When any suitable game appears 
they are after it hot-foot. And foiled indeed is 
the wary fly or midge that attempts to escape by 
flight. For before it can so much as rise, the 
acrobatic young spiderling leaps into the air and 
catches it quicker than a wink. Indeed, no cat 


A MASTERLY BRIGAND 165 


was ever quicker at catching a mouse than the 
spiderling is in pursuit of its prey. 

“ The carpenter-bee and a species of wasp 
known as the tarantula-killer are the Lycosidce’s 
worst enemies. The latter is a large black wasp 
with reddish-brown wings. It paralyzes the spi¬ 
der, instead of killing it outright, then calmly 
lays an egg upon it, and buries the living relic in 
a hole five inches deep. When the egg hatches, 
the baby wasp feeds upon its ingenious ‘ cradle/ 
till it is fully grown and ready to dig its way out. 

“ The Lycosa’s stomach is as accommodating 
as that of a camel. It can gorge itself one day 
and go without another meal for an indefinite 
period. Fabre says that he often neglected to 
feed the Lycosas in his laboratory for weeks at a 
time, and could never tell that they were the 
worse for it. When food was finally offered 
them, however, they fully came up to the old 
maxim, ‘ ravenous as a wolf/ 

“ The retreat or stronghold of the Lycosa is 
not built until it marries and sets up housekeep¬ 
ing. By and by there will be a host of babies to 
care for, and Madam Lycosa will find plenty to 
do without indulging in foot races and gymnas¬ 
tics for her livelihood. So a well or burrow is 
sunk into the earth, anywhere from six inches to 
a foot in depth, and sometimes nearly an inch in 
diameter. This is usually lined with a thin film 


166 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


of silk, especially if the burrow is drilled in loose 
soil. Near the surface it is thicker and heavier 
than it is deeper down; we can well understand 
why this should be so. 

“Not one of our insect neighbors is more de¬ 
voted to her family than is the Lycom. If you 
keep an eye on the colony I have discovered, you 
may possibly see a female weaving her egg-sac, 
but I doubt it, as they are very shy. Even the 
less important business of turret-building is car¬ 
ried on after nightfall and in the dim morning 
hours before the early worm catchers get abroad. 
Fabre had the good luck to observe a weaver 
which he had confined in his laboratory. Early 
one morning he crept up and found her busily 
engaged in spinning a silken network on the 
ground. It was coarse and shapeless, but firmly 
fixed, and when finished covered a space about as 
large as the palm of his hand. This, it appeared, 
was intended for the floor of the spider’s abode, 
but later the old naturalist discovered that it was 
only a carpet spread upon the particular spot the 
JLycosa had selected for a workshop. 

“ The real business in hand was the fashioning 
of her egg-sac, and the carpet was only a provi¬ 
sionary measure to keep the precious pill from 
becoming soiled. She began by weaving a fine 
little mat of superb white silk, about the size of a 
fifty-cent piece, with the outer edge thickened 


A MASTERLY BRIGAND 16T 


and built up until the mat really became a sort of 
bowl, with a wide, flat edge. Inside this bowl 
her eggs were laid, and then carefully covered 
with a silken blanket. Would she leave them 
there in the bowl set in the midst of the circular 
carpet? Knowing Lycosas , the watcher felt sure 
that she would not, and so remained motionless 
awaiting events. Presently the spider began 
taking up and breaking one after another the 
threads which held the mat to the carpet. At the 
same time, too, she gripped and tore with her 
fangs, and finally by dint of exceedingly hard 
labor managed to tear the bowl loose and wrap it 
in a loose sheet torn from the upper surface of the 
carpet. She had now a white silk pill, soft and 
sticky to the touch, and about the size of an aver¬ 
age cherry. 

“Altogether several hours had gone into this 
accomplishment, and Madam Lycosa seemed 
quite tired out, hut she was happy, and grasping 
the precious pill in her arms, she dropped off to 
sleep. Next morning she was found carrying 
the bag of eggs slung behind her, as is the fashion 
of all the Lycosas. You will be able to see this 
much anyway. For sleeping or waking, the 
mothers never let their precious egg-sacs out of 
their grasp, though, as you may well imagine, 
such burdens are often exceedingly inconvenient 
to drag along up-stairs, down-stairs, and in the 


168 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


sudden leaps for prey. If you rob them forcibly 
with the pincers, they are frantic. They are eas¬ 
ily fooled, too; if you take their sac and offer 
them another they do not know the difference. 
They will even snatch a cork or flour pill in their 
flurry, attach it hurriedly to their spinnerets, and 
make for safety. 

“Another thing you will be very likely to note 
within a few days; this is a mother Lycosa sun¬ 
ning her eggs. You will find her literally stand¬ 
ing on her head in her pit, with her hind legs 
thrust out over the ramparts bearing her white 
pill upward to the life-giving rays of the sun. 
Motionless hour after hour she remains, save for 
the movement necessary to shift the egg-sac occa¬ 
sionally so that all parts of it may be equally 
heated. Nor is this just a one-day performance; 
through the sunny hours of every day for a pe¬ 
riod of three or four weeks the little creature will 
be found patiently at her post. Tiresome and 
tedious enough the effort must be, but if the little 
Lycosa ever envies the birds sitting comfortably 
in their nests to hatch their offspring, no one ever 
knows it. 

“ If you look closely at the white pill, you will 
note a little raised fold running about its middle. 
This is the edge of the circular mat drawn up 
around the bowl to keep the eggs from spilling. 
When the little spiderlings are ready to come out 


A MASTERLY BRIGAND 169 

this fold gives way. Some think that the mother 
herself breaks open the wrapper at just the right 
moment, but it is possible that it bursts, as you 
will remember the banded spider’s wallet does 
when the contents become too stout and active to 
be confined longer. 

“As they come from the sac, the little Lycosas , 
numbering a couple of hundred or so, climb to 
their patient mother’s back and settle themselves 
so tightly together that the unobservant person 
might pass them by as a sort of shaggy bark or 
scale covering. An odd overcoat they are for¬ 
sooth, and one which the weary mother may not 
lay aside even for one moment through all the fall 
and winter and until the warm days of spring are 
at hand. Like young opossums, the spiderlings 
insist on being carried everywhere, but instead of 
a free ride of five or six weeks’ duration, theirs is 
a matter of months. If by chance some dozen or 
so of them get spilled off, they are not lost. They 
scamper about till they find one of their mother’s 
legs and climb up this staunch pillar to their 
pleasant haven. 

“ Strangely enough, so far as any one knows, 
the little spiderlings do not eat a bite while they 
live thus huddled together. Neither do they 
grow any larger. At the age of seven months, 
when it has become warm enough for them to be 
trusted abroad alone, they are no larger than 


170 


NATURE S CRAFTSMEN 


when they were born. What has kept them alive 
all this time? Baby chicks, you know, swallow 
the yolk of the egg just before coming out of the 
shell. This is all the food they require for forty- 
eight hours. Can it be that there is some such 
provision made for the months the little spider- 
lings go unfed? Fabre thinks this unlikely. The 
time is too long. To be sure, the mother herself 
does not eat a great deal during this period, and 
she stays plump and in good condition. Indeed, 
she even puts on fat. But we know the accom¬ 
modating stomach she has; a good gorging meal 
now and then and she can exist in perfect content. 
And this she has, for at irregular intervals she 
comes up into her watch-tower, bearing her 
swarming, toppling burden, and waits patiently 
for the ill-fated passer-by. When her prey is 
overcome, however, the youngsters show no man¬ 
ner of interest in it; nor does she make any effort 
to persuade them to join her at the feast. To all 
appearances they are not hungry, and she knows 
it. What keeps them alive? 

“ It would not take much just to exist, but the 
spiderlings do more than this. Watch them for 
a time, and you will see that they are far from 
being in a state of rest. Each one has to brace 
its little self and cling to its mother’s back and to 
its brothers and sisters to keep from falling off. 
When a tumble does come, they are up in an in- 


A MASTERLY BRIGAND 171 


stant, scurrying nimbly around until they find 
means to regain their position. Tiny as they are, 
they are evidently brimming over with energy. 
Where do they get it? Fabre pondered this 
question well, and at last he became convinced 
that the little spiderlings live upon sunshine. At 
first thought, this seems a very surprising thing. 
But, says the old naturalist, ‘ Why not live on 
sun, seeing that, after all, we find nothing but 
sun in the fruits which we eat? 5 Certainly we 
know that the sun is the giver of all energy, and 
we have seen too many miracles in the insect 
world to scoff at the suggestion that by some All¬ 
wise Power the spiderlings may have been pro¬ 
visioned so that they can occasionally lunch liber¬ 
ally from sunshine.” 

“ I see no reason at all to doubt it,” said Auntie 
slowly, as her brother looked about apparently 
waiting for remarks. “And the fact is sugges¬ 
tive : Chemists have long had a dream of supply¬ 
ing food products from the laboratory to take the 
place of those grown on the farm. Why 
shouldn’t physical science go a step farther, and 
by grasping a hint from the JLycosa spiderlings, 
give us energy-producing foods direct from the 
prime fountain of energy? ” 

“ I’m sure I wish it could be done,” sighed 
Mother, who had for some time been keeping an 
eye on the relentless hands of the clock, creeping 


172 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


nearer and nearer the time to get dinner. 
“ Fancy dining bountifully to-night on a big dish 
of sunshine! ” 

“ There’s no knowing what miracle may trans¬ 
pire even in the near future,” Grandfather con¬ 
tributed soberly, apparently regarding the whole 
project as quite feasible. “ Ten years ago if 
any one had told me we could sit here comfortably 
in our own home to-night and listen to an orches¬ 
tra in Chicago, I would scarcely have heeded the 
remark. And yet that is just exactly what we 
expect to do! We would no more think of doing 
without our radio now than we would of dis¬ 
pensing with our telephone, our car, or the pho¬ 
nograph. Shortly we may deem just as neces¬ 
sary some contraption for absorbing sunshine and 
pumping its energizing vitality into our systems: 
who knows ? It would certainly be a tremendous 
jolt to old H. C. L. now, wouldn’t it? ” 

“ Hear! Hear! ” Tommy remonstrated, as the 
group seemed separating to attend to various 
evening duties. “ Those little JLycosas are not 
grown up yet: we can’t go and leave them on 
their mother’s back, even if they are lunching in 
a truly miraculous fashion. Please finish them. 
Uncle John.” 

“ Very well,” laughed his uncle, turning back, 
and pausing to lean in the doorway. “ Only I 
shall have to be brief: About the first of April, if 


A MASTERLY BRIGAND 


173 


the warm spring days seem to be at hand, Madam 
Lycosa comes up out of the burrow with her 
agile, squirming burden still huddled on her back. 
The time has arrived for the babies to leave her, 
but she does not seem at all concerned over the 
event. She seats herself calmly on the top rail 
of her watch-tower, and leaves the affair entirely 
to the invigorating influence of the warm sun¬ 
shine. 

“ Shortly the little fellows along the outer edge 
begin to leave in twos and threes and by the 
dozen. For a little while they scamper about on 
the ground near at hand; then, growing bolder, 
they hurry away and each one climbs to the top 
of the tallest pinnacle to be found. Sometimes 
this is a weed stalk or a grassy hummock, again it 
may be simply a clod of dirt—anything will serve 
that tends to elevate the young adventurers so 
that a view of the world may be had. The spirit 
of discovery stirs in their tiny breasts; they long 
to get far and ever farther away. And necessity, 
always the mother of invention, shows them how: 
each little spider begins to spin, and presently 
casts to the breeze a thin rope of silk, so delicate 
and fragile that we are not able to see it at all 
unless it comes between our eyes and the sun. 
You know what happens next, for the various 
members of the Lycosa family are the little aero¬ 
nauts we have seen time and again sailing along 



174 NATURE S CRAFTSMEN 

on their silken ropes—the aeroplane of Nature’s 
own invention. It is fashioned in the hour of 
need, and promptly abandoned and forgotten at 
the end of the journey. For the young Lycosas 
never make but one flight, and that the one which 
carries them far from their mother’s ken. On 
alighting, they wander here and there hunting 
and feeding till summer is well on the wane. 
Then come a number of hasty weddings and the 
hurried business of getting a burrow dug and an 
egg-sac made and into the sunshine. 

“As for Madam Lycosa, the mother of this 
new generation of spiders, after her fledgelings 
have all left her, a matter perhaps of a week or 
two if the weather be fair, she goes on with her 
hunting, pursuing her career of robber and brig¬ 
and with renewed zest, until she, too, is warned 
by the shortness of the days to get an egg-sac 
hung while the great incubator is still near 
enough to do the hatching. If the Fates are 
kind, she will raise several more families one 
after another; for her life is a long one, as lives 
are counted in the insect world.” 


POLICEMEN OF THE GARDEN 


“ Thomas Lane Dayton/” cried Grand¬ 
mother, horrified, “ put down that horrid toad 
this instant! Don’t you know it will make warts 
all over your hands? ” 

“ Nonsense, Mother,” came Uncle John’s voice 
in laughing protest, “ that notion was exploded 
long ago, along with the belief that killing a toad 
on the premises would cause the cows to give 
bloody milk! ” 

“ Why, Grandma,” Tommy laughed, “ times 
have changed, haven’t they? To-day we look 
upon the toad as one of our best friends. He is 
the policeman of the garden, and a prime hand at 
catching, thieves all about the place. It has been 
estimated that in three months the toad gets two 
thousand cutworms. Daddy Thornton says when 
he was a boy his father used to give him a penny 
for every cutworm he found and killed. At this 
rate, our friend, Mr. Toad, is worth better than 
six dollars per month, and he doesn’t stop with 
cutworms. He likes caterpillars, army-worms, 
and thousand-leggers. And he just dotes on 

rose bugs! You should love him for that, surely, 

175 


176 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 

Besides, there is at least one toad on record which 
was seen to snap up eighty-six house-flies in less 
than ten minutes.” 

“ Do tell now,” ejaculated Grandmother, star¬ 
ing in surprise. “ I’m sure I never would have 
believed it! My mother once told me that in Tier 
day people thought the breath of a toad would 
poison a baby; she laughed at that, and it was 
silly, of course. But I was always taught to give 
toads a wide berth, and my brothers used to kill 
them on sight. One Saturday, I remember, they 
got a dozen or so at a neighbor’s pond, and prob¬ 
ably maimed several more. We thought it a 
splendid day’s work—just so many enemies slain; 
and Father gave the boys a quarter apiece. In¬ 
stead—why-ee—if what you say is true-” 

“ Instead,” finished Uncle John grimly, as 
Grandmother paused quite overcome with the 
enormity of the offense, “ the little rascals should 
have had a sound thrashing! And yet they were 
not so much to blame, since no one had told them 
the value of the creatures they feared and de¬ 
spised. Toads are one of Nature’s most efficient 
agents for combating insect pests. They are 
quite as valuable as birds, but whereas every one 
sees and loves the birds, the toads, quiet in habit 
and appearance, pursuing their work for the most 
part after nightfall, are to many people un¬ 
known, and to others objects of loathsome dis- 




POLICEMEN OF THE GARDEN 177 


gust. A few, however, in all ages have sought to 
portray the toad as a benefactor to man. The 
Japanese have a proverb to the effect that good 
fortune comes to the house in whose new-made 
cellar the toad takes up its abode. Many of the 
early writers refer to the valuable toadstone or 
jewel to be found in the toad’s head; others speak 
just as erroneously of the little creature’s medici¬ 
nal qualities. Small wonder, perhaps, that un¬ 
der all its load of false and even ludicrous mis¬ 
representation the toad should have failed to re¬ 
ceive its just dues! Sober, warty, and homely 
enough it is, in all conscience, yet judged by the 
standard of good works—the only real test—the 
toad is one of the best possible friends and helpers 
of the farmer and gardener.” 

“ Toads are easily tamed,” informed Tommy, 
as Uncle John was called to the telephone. “ I 
mean to see what I can do toward civilizing this 
one. I’ve fixed him a nice little retreat under the 
stone wall in the corner of the rose garden, and I 
mean to teach him to hop out when I whistle for 
him! ” 

“And may I help feed him? ” demanded Ruth, 
excitedly. “ Would he care for anything right 
now, do you suppose? ” 

“ I’m thinking he will always be caring,” 
Tommy returned, shrewdly. “ Try him. Why,” 
to Alice, who had asked what was to be done with 



178 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


the creature in winter, “ Mother says I may put 
him in the cellar, if I like. But if I don’t, he will 
know how to shift for himself. Early in the fall 
toads bury themselves deep in the mud, and go 
sound asleep. They say toads are frequently 
found in winter some distance below the surface 
apparently frozen stiff, but, strangely enough, 
they are not dead. They come out well and 
hearty and ready for the next season’s campaign 
as soon as the insects begin to arrive. Toads 
have a real homing instinct. They stay in the 
same garden year after year. One writer men¬ 
tions two toads that have lived in separate door- 
yards, one for twelve and the other for twenty- 
three years respectively.” 

“ I was reading the other day of a live toad be¬ 
ing found imbedded in masonry that was known 
to have been standing a dozen years or more,” 
Auntie observed. “ Is it possible that the little 
creature could have existed dormant so long? ” 

“ Hardly,” returned Father. “ In porous 
stone or moist soil the thing might be possible for 
some months. But no toad, no matter how inured 
to hardship, could long withstand deprivation of 
air, food, and water. Such tales often crop up, 
but seldom is one to be believed. It is a matter 
of history that, in 1777, three toads were imbed¬ 
ded in plaster and placed with the archives of the 
French Academy of Sciences. At the end of 


POLICEMEN OF THE GARDEN 179 

eighteen months two of the toads were still alive. 
In another oft-quoted experiment, toads were 
buried in cavities in sandstone and in limestone. 
Those buried in the sandstone lived thirteen 
months; those in the more porous material sur¬ 
vived about two years. Toads are remarkably 
long-lived, specimens having been known to reach 
the advanced age of thirty-six.” 

“ Here now, Toady,” said Ruth, returning 
with two or three dead flies in her chubby fist. 
“ See! Eat ’em up, quick! ” and she dropped her 
offering before the “ guest.” 

But, to the disappointment of all, the toad 
never so much as even batted an eye in thanks. 

“ Try him with a live fly, Ruthie,” suggested 
Uncle John, again joining the group. “ Here,” 
and he deftly captured a noisy bluebottle drum¬ 
ming against the screen, eager to be gone. 
Quickly the little scavenger was tossed whirling 
and remonstrating in front of the toad, and 
presto! swift as lightning out came a curious 
darting tongue and the bluebottle disappeared. 

“ Toads seldom care for dead or motionless 
food,” Uncle John went on to explain, after the 
various ejaculations had subsided, “ but you see 
what happens when live bait appears. Cut¬ 
worms seem to sense that so long as they staj^ 
curled up they are safe. But let one conclude 
that the toad is napping, and start to get away, 


180 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 

and snap! there is one cutworm less to work havoc 
in the garden. The toad’s only weapon is its 
tongue, but that is quite sufficient. It is attached 
in front and free behind, so that it can fly out with 
the quickness and swiftness of a hair-spring. 
Moreover it is coated with a sticky substance 
which holds the captive until the creature’s jaws 
close upon it. If the victim chances to be too 
large to be gobbled easily, the toad uses his hind 
legs to help crowd it down! 

“ Toads have an enormous capacity for food. 
It has been found that when food is abundant 
one will completely fill and empty his stomach 
four times in twenty-four hours. Toads usually 
stay hidden during the day, because they are very 
susceptible to the heat or the drying effect of the 
sun’s rays upon their sensitive skin. On cloudy 
days and in the cool of the evening, they come 
out from their retreat and set busily about their 
business of patrolling the gardens and fields. 
Unless food is exceedingly plentiful, they hunt 
all night long, and are themselves frequently 
gobbled up by owls, bats, skunks, and other night- 
prowling creatures. In some way the toads have 
learned that an electric arc or other bright light 
attracts swarms of insects, and that these fall 
to the ground thereabouts in great numbers. 
Kirkland reports having seen eight busy toads 
holding a festival under an arc light at Amherst, 


POLICEMEN OF THE GARDEN 181 


Mass. Such a spot seldom fails to yield up one 
or more toads even in the dullest part of the 
season. 

“The toad is usually a solitary creature, save 
at mating time, and in the fall of the year when 
a dozen or more may gather in some particularly 
attractive place for hibernating, such as under a 
loose pile of boards or stones. As soon as they 
are out in the spring, the males set up a soft, 
musical calling, not unlike the chime of bells 
heard from a distance. ‘Cling!’ says one; 
‘Clang!’ goes another; ‘Clung!’ says a third; 
and so on daintily and indefinitely, f Cling, clang , 
clung; cling, clang, clung! ’ Which being inter¬ 
preted means, * The pond, the pond , come away! ’ 
And they themselves lead the way to the nearest 
pool. The number that assembles in response to 
these persuasive calls is often truly remarkable. 
Kirkland says that he once counted three hun¬ 
dred and fifty-six toads on the shores of a half¬ 
acre pond. 

“ The egg strings of the toads are curious af¬ 
fairs, being composed of long ropes or strands of 
gelatine dotted with tiny black eggs. This gelat¬ 
inous mass swells as soon as it touches the water, 
and is to be found coiled or matted in warm ponds 
and roadside pools in a mass far exceeding the 
body of the parent toad. The female toad swims 
around slowly laying her eggs, and passing 


182 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


around small obstructions, with the result that 
the strands of eggs are festooned like a huge 
irregular spider web. In a short time, the eggs 
hatch into queer little tadpoles with a large fin- 
bordered tail, and a sort of temporary mouth by 
which they cling to weeds and water plants when 
at rest. For the first few days they feed upon 
the minute algee 1 which coat the bottom of the 
pond and float on the surface; later they devour 
animal substances. For this reason, tadpoles are 
the best possible scavengers, Tommy, and you 
will do well to find some for your aquarium. 
They are easily located in shallow water near the 
shore, as they hide there among the water plants 
to screen themselves from the hungry turtles and 
fishes that are especially fond of tadpole dinners. 
You may not be able to distinguish the toad tad¬ 
poles from their kindred the frog tadpoles. But 
that won’t matter in the least; you will have the 
added pleasure of watching the development of 
both. 

“ At a certain stage, the toad tadpoles will set¬ 
tle their identity. For by the latter part of June, 
the legs will suddenly develop, the finny swim¬ 
ming organ will disappear, and the young toads 
will leave the water never to return save for a 
brief period in the mating season. They are the 
veriest babies, however, when they first go abroad, 

1 Tiny chlorophyll-bearing plants. 


POLICEMEN OF THE GARDEN 183 


and are so sensitive to heat that they hide under 
stones and rubbish, hugging the moist earth for 
coolness. But let a quick, drenching shower 
descend at the right season, and so many little 
toads will appear in gardens and walks, that it is 
small wonder that people once thought they 
rained down. 

“ In one way Mother Nature has been very 
kind to the baby toads. By making them so ut¬ 
terly unable to withstand the kiss of the sun, and 
thus forcing them to hide in quiet shelters, she 
shields them from their enemies the birds and 
snakes. And you should see what wonderful 
pains she takes with their toilets! Every-” 

“ Oh, I have a piece about that, Uncle John,” 
interrupted Ruth, in her little eager way. “ Do 
let me speak it for you,” and, permission being 
given, she recited the following lines: 


A TOAD’S TOILET 

Oh! the funniest sight I’ve seen to-day! 

You’d never, never guess! 

A queer little toad sitting under a leaf 
Was solemnly changing his dress. 

First, he took off his trousers (a very close fit), 
As if getting ready for bed; 

Then off came the sleeves of the little brown shirt, 
And he drew the whole over his head. 



184 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


He’d a fresh new suit underneath of brown, 

With spots of lighter hue, 

And gravely he looked himself over with care, 

As much as to say: “ Now I’ll do.” 

Next he picked up his dusty cast-off clothes, 

And folded and rolled them tight, 

Then (no, I’m not joking) he swallowed the roll, 
And slowly hopped off out of sight. 

—Prentice V. Rogers. 

“ There are many such scenes in the life of the 
toad,” Uncle John continued, as the generous 
applause ceased. “ Frequently during the sum¬ 
mer we find toads that seem much fresher and 
brighter looking than their neighbors. The rea¬ 
son is that they have just donned a new suit. In 
youth, the toad’s skin is quite smooth. Rough¬ 
ness and warts come with age. The belief that 
the toad is poisonous arises from the milky acrid 
fluid it throws out from its skin when roughly 
handled. This does not affect the human skin, 
but dogs that attempt to bite toads show that 
they find the taste extremely unpleasant. It is 
no barrier, however, to hawks and owls, who 
never lose a chance at a toad. The toad is not 
quite grown up until its fourth year. At this 
period, the young females assemble at the ponds 
with their elders, and lay their first eggs. The 
number of eggs laid by the more mature toad- 
mothers is astonishing, their lavish provision be- 


POLICEMEN OF THE GARDEN 185 

ing, of course, because Nature knows how many 
hungry mouths there are for tadpoles. Dr. 
Hodge, in his book Nature Study and Life, says 
that he once took 7,587 eggs from one toad and 
11,545 eggs from another. 

“ Kirkland says that it is the irony of fate that 
large numbers of toads should be killed annually 
by man, who is the one most benefited by their 
lives. Countless young ones are slain by the 
lawn mowers, while the practice of burning over 
lawns and fields kills many more. The heaviest 
wrong, however, is that accomplished by small 
boys, like your grandmother’s brothers, who 
know not the nature of the toad nor its rights. 

“ In England, where snails and slugs are more 
destructive than with us, the gardeners often pro¬ 
tect themselves by founding toad colonies. And 
it seems that a toad farm there might do a thriv¬ 
ing business, twenty-five dollars per hundred and 
even higher being paid for toads for colonizing 
purposes. Greenhouse owners in our country are 
beginning to realize the value of toads in their 
business, as the creatures are death to sow bugs, 
weevils, and rose beetles. I am sure 4 Warty ’ 
here will prove a very valuable addition to our 
rose garden, and no doubt you children can learn 
a great deal more about this policeman of the 
garden by watching him patrol his beat.” 


A NOCTURNAL HUNTRESS 


“ Sh! girls,” warned Max, as Mabel and Alice 
came laughingly out on the piazza in the early 
gloaming. “We are listening to the night-time 
orchestra. Hark to the little bell-ringers! They 
are out in full force to-night. Uncle John saya 
if we want to see Warty to-morrow we will have 
to hunt for him down by the pond! There! 
hear that sturdy old throaty ' Clung! clung! * I 
just know that’s Warty. It sounds so sure and 
dependable.” 

“ Nonsense! ” Alice laughed softly. “ Warty 
is no bass singer. I’ll bet you anything that he 
pipes the highest tenor in the bunch.” 

“ Cling! cling! ” The notes wafted high, but 
softly, apparently from close beside the porch 
steps, and Alice had begun a gleeful “ I told you 
so! ” when Uncle John’s smiling face took form 
in the gloom, and he joined them with shoulders 
which shook as much from his mischievous laugh¬ 
ter as from the swift pommeling which Alice 
made haste to administer. 

“If you folks cant keep still,” growled 

Tommy, with a direfulness which needed no corn- 

186 


A NOCTURNAL HUNTRESS 187 

pletion apparently, for it ended in a gruff gurgle. 
Girls were such nuisances sometimes! 

“ There’s a new voice in the chorus to-night,” 
Max whispered, linking his arm into Uncle 
John’s and snuggling beside him, as the latter 
seated himself on the porch bench. “We can’t 
make out what it is. We only hear it once in 
a while when there is a break between the toads’ 
chimes and the crickets’ chirps. It is a funny 
little sound, like a faint echo of Grandmother’s 
old spinning-wheel. Tommy says that it is 
merely the accompaniment; every now and then 
along with it we hear a shrill clicking note, put in 
like punctuation marks, sort of grand opera style, 
you know.” 

“Yes,” Uncle John nodded. “Very good 
description, I call that, my boy. I know your 
performer. It is the green grasshopper, or to 
be more exact, that particular one of the green 
grasshoppers known as the ‘ Longhorn,’ so called 
because her feelers are so much longer than her 
body. She has one eye on her notes, and the 
other alert for passing prey. And every few 
minutes she interrupts herself to spring out and 
disembowel a victim. An extremely courageous 
huntress is she; for her prey is that colossus in 
the insect world which we erroneously term the 
locust. In truth, the green grasshoppers them¬ 
selves belong to the locust family; our ‘locust’ 


188 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


is a cicada or harvest-fly. There are many spe¬ 
cies of cicadas, but the one the green huntress 
usually lays for is a big, wide-bodied, prominent¬ 
eyed creature much larger and stronger than her¬ 
self. But there is never any doubt about the 
outcome: the longhorn is too sly; she always takes 
her victim unawares, often as not springing upon 
it while it is sleeping. Being entirely unpro¬ 
vided with weapons, the poor cicada can do noth¬ 
ing but kick and cry out, and small good this 
serves. For the enemy is entirely without mercy, 
and her jaws are a stout pair of pliers which rip 
open the abdomen of the cicada in short order. 

“ Always the abdomen is the point of attack. 
We might think this the most vulnerable part of 
the cicada, but for one thing: usually it is the 
abdomen and its contents alone that are eaten. 
Now, why? We can form but one conclusion: 
the longhorn has a craving for the delicious 
sugary sap which the cicada imbibes by boring 
into the bark of trees with its handy little gimlet. 
Full well the longhorn knows where this treasure 
is stored, and she robs the syrup jar, so to speak. 
She does not care a great deal for meat, and the 
delicate walls and lining of the abdomen are quite 
sufficient. A cage of longhorns fed on cicadas 
soon comes to look like a slaughter pen, with the 
heads, wings, sundered legs, and empty carcasses 
of the unfortunate victims strewn all about. If 


A NOCTURNAL HUNTRESS 189 

cicadas are not to be had, various beetles and 
cockshafers are made to suffice, and of these also 
the longhorn eats only the daintiest, tenderest 
tid-bits. After the green-clad murderess has had 
her fill of sugary pulp, meat and blood, she likes 
to reduce the heating effect of these by nibbling 
at a bit of fruit or some tender growing plant, 
thus managing by balancing her rations to keep 
herself always in the pink of condition.” 

“ The longhorn and the katydid are the same 
creature, are they not, John? ” queried Father. 

“Not at all,” his brother-in-law returned 
quickly, “ though many people confuse them. 
The katydids lay their eggs on the young shoots 
of trees and shrubs, and make their home there, 
seldom if ever being found on the ground. The 
scale-like eggs which you may have noted ar¬ 
ranged in a double row on the grape-vines in win¬ 
ter are katydid eggs. Longhorns and katydids 
are cousins, both belonging to the Orthoptera 
group. The green meadow grasshoppers are also 
included in the family. You all know them—• 
long, slender, delicate green-colored creatures, 
matching in shade the plants they feed among. 
The longhorn is the beauty of the family, being a 
magnificent creature, slim and well-proportioned 
in spite of its large size. It is pale-green all over, 
with two whitish stripes running down its sides, 
great gauzy wings, and slender arching ‘ horns * 


190 


NATURE'S CRAFTSMEN 


or antennae extending backward above and be¬ 
yond its body. It is strong in flight and is as 
much at home in the tree tops searching for sleep¬ 
ing cicadas as it is on the ground to which the 
stragglers usually tumble when the longhorn 
drives home her cruel thrust. The sudden, sharp 
insect wail which we sometimes hear in the dead 
of night is the poor cicada's shriek of fright and 
agony, which marks the longhorn’s swift assault. 

“ The females of both the longhorns and the 
green meadow grasshoppers bear long curved 
egg-laying tools, sharp as pin darts. With these 
convenient ovipositors, they are able to make a 
tiny slit at the base of large grass blades and in¬ 
sert their eggs. Here in these snug little hatch¬ 
eries the treasures are as safe as can be. No 
bright eye can hope to spy them; even bossy, if 
she passes that way, never bites low enough to 
disturb them. All whiter they are sheltered by 
the grassy clump, and in spring the warm kiss 
of the sun presently brings out the baby long¬ 
horns. Thanks to the niceties of Mother Na¬ 
ture’s time-table, they arrive just in time to fur¬ 
nish dainty breakfasts for the hosts of little quail 
babies that are hatching all about. A good many, 
however, manage to escape the bright little eyes 
in the fluffy balls of down, and the race of long¬ 
horns and meadow grasshoppers is never in any 
danger of being exterminated. 



© Paul G. Howes 

THE “LONG-HORN” GRASSHOPPER 







A NOCTURNAL HUNTRESS 191 


“ Imagine what must be the feelings of the 
little chaps when they first hatch in their grassy 
clump. There is no father nor mother to guide 
them. Hunger demands that they must have 
food; but where is food to be found? I once 
passed one of these grassy nurseries and saw a 
score or more of anxious little heads peering out. 
I felt sure they must soon venture forth, and sat 
me down to watch. Pressed and harried by the 
clamoring brothers and sisters behind them, 
those in front were crowded out, and stood for an 
instant peering timid and half-frightened. What 
a big, big place was the world to which they had 
come! How was a tiny longhorn to know where 
to get a bite of dinner? Cautiously one of them 
nibbled at a bit of the short tender grass under 
its feet. Evidently it tasted good, for the next 
bite was taken greedily. Soon the whole house¬ 
hold were busily engaged. Their mother, accord¬ 
ing to Nature’s unvarying law, had carefully 
placed them in the very midst of the food their 
stomachs required for the first meal. I watched 
them scattering and feeding happily, each one 
daintily nibbling out little holes no larger than a 
pin-head here and there in the grass blades. A 
whole host of baby longhorns might feed in the 
meadow, I reflected, and the casual passer-by be 
none the wiser. I could not help a shrug over the 
thoughts of the havoc which a hungry beetle or 


192 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


a quail bevy would create at the moment, should 
such a calamity pass that way. But, however 
much I would have liked to play guardian, I 
could tarry no longer. That evening as I re¬ 
turned, I peeped eagerly into the grassy clump, 
half-expecting to find it empty. But lo! there 
were the baby longhorns cuddled down in a little 
knot together fast asleep. Fate had been kind. 
Few, if any, of their number were missing. 
What would the morrow bring forth? How long 
would it be before they adopted the murderous 
calling of their mother, and ceased to go to bed 
at night as good folks should? I did not pass 
that way again for several weeks, and if the merry 
little goldfinch I found swaying on a weed stalk 
above the deserted home knew anything of the 
longhorns, at least he kept his own counsel.” 


QUEER CHIMNEY BUILDERS 


Auntie and Alice had been spending the day 
in a city some miles away, going and returning 
on the trolley. It had been hot and very dusty, 
and the family were much surprised when Alice 
exclaimed eagerly: “ I do wish the rest of you 
had been along; we had the loveliest trip! Some¬ 
thing went wrong, and we had to stay quite 
a while near the most interesting little town. 
There wasn’t a soul in sight, nor a house either 
for that matter; indeed no one would ever have 
thought of the place as a town at all, but for the 
host of little clay-chimneys standing here and 
there in every direction. Auntie and I got out and 
walked all through the place, but it was as still 
as the grave. Not even a single guard challenged 
us for the countersign! Such a queer situation 
for a town it was, too, away back from the river, 
in a low moist place, right beside the track. 
What they wanted to build so close up to the 
trolley for is a mystery; not one of the citizens 
ever takes a ride on the cars. Auntie said she 
thought it was because the special kind of clay 
they need for their odd chimneys happened to be 
right there.” 


193 


194 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


“ Crawfish Town! You stopped at Crawfish 
Town,” cried Tommy. “ Gee! I do wish I had 
been along. I don’t see why something couldn’t 
have busted the day Uncle John and I went up! 
We saw the town, but we whizzed right through. 
The citizens all work on the night shift, Uncle 
John says; that’s why there was no one around. 
But I should think they would have had senti¬ 
nels.” 

“You wouldn’t if you got a close-up view of 
their chimneys, which of course you know are in 
reality their doors,” Alice returned. “ It would 
take a burglar with a very complete set of tools 
to get into their houses. Evidently they are well 
aware of this, and so go sensibly to bed and get 
a good rest in preparation for the night’s hunt, 
when, under cover of darkness, their own move¬ 
ments are not apt to be questioned, and their 
prey is the more easily approached unwarily. 

“ The crawfish’s house is all underground. 
Here he tunnels his rooms and galleries mole- 
fashion, bringing up his dirt to use in building 
his queer, chimney-style entrances. He has but 
one set of quarry tools—his pincer-like hands; 
hence he likes a particular kind of nice pliable 
clay to build with. Neither you nor I could cut 
a neater circle with a compass than the crawfish 
makes for his doorway. His chimney is in truth 
a little protecting wall about this entrance, and 



QUEER CHIMNEY BUILDERS 195 

he knows enough to make it firm and steady by 
building wider at the base. The chimneys are 
not very ornamental on close-up inspection, but 
they serve to keep out all uninvited guests.” 

“ Crawfish are tireless hunters, working from 
twilight until morning is close at hand,” Uncle 
John now informed. “ Moreover, they are so 
fashioned that they can hunt with equal ease on 
land or in the water, having both the water- 
breathing power of the fishes and the air-breath¬ 
ing apparatus of the land animals. They walk 
about alongshore or on the bottom of the stream 
with equal ease. And stranger than all, perhaps, 
they travel backward even more swiftly than they 
go forward. 

“ Any time you might succeed in surprising a 
crawfish, you could easily knock his eyes off with 
a stick, not because they are bulging with fright, 
but because they are just made that way. They 
are thrust out from the sides of his head on queer 
little sticks, and so arranged that they turn read¬ 
ily in any direction. Naturally it is next to im¬ 
possible to catch the crawfish unawares. Corner 
him and reach swiftly, but your fingers only close 
against one another; the crawfish is off at one 
side laughing at your failure. 

“ Another thing that is decidedly peculiar 
about the crawfish is that he wears his bones on 
the outside. And it is a very clever arrangement, 


19(5 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


for they serve him not only as a skeleton to hold 
his body in shape, but as a coat of mail. To be 
sure, his skeleton is not made up of bones just 
like ours, it is fashioned in the form of plates, 
and while it serves double duty it yet has its dis¬ 
advantages. For instance, when we meet with 
an accident, we may possibly break a bone; the 
crawfish has his crushed, because there is no cush¬ 
ion of flesh to deaden the shock. 

44 The crawfish is a flesh eater. Moreover he 
is not at all particular about his meat being fresh; 
indeed, if the truth be told, he would a little rather 
it smelled to the high heaven, and he will go long 
distances to obtain a taste of a delectable bit whose 
odor is borne to him on the winds. For this rea¬ 
son, too, he is easily trapped with a bait of de¬ 
caying, ill-smelling flesh. He has many enemies 
among mankind, especially in the low countries. 
They say he is a mischievous creature, which of 
course only means that the crawfish’s patient and 
persistent industry frequently conflicts with the 
plans of man. He will occasionally cut holes 
through dykes and dams, and sometimes causes 
dangerous and costly breakdowns of water bar¬ 
riers. Not infrequently, too, he varies his meat 
diet with a bit of green stuff, and thus causes 
serious damage to tender young crops. But the 
crawfish is not maliciously wicked. He follows 
his own even course in the pursuit of life and 


QUEER CHIMNEY BUILDERS 197 

happiness, and by retiring from the field during 
daylight hours does his best to live peaceably 
among his neighbors. 

“ Crawfish towns are scattered pretty well over 
the world. But there is one thing on which the 
crawfish insists: he must live near fresh water. 
He has a big overgrown cousin, however, the lob¬ 
ster, a scavenger lover like himself, who prefers 
the salt water, and judging from his size, he cer¬ 
tainly thrives well in it. There is but one slight 
difference in the general make-up of the craw¬ 
fish and the lobster. That difference is in the 
tail. Both the crawfish and the lobster have fin- 
like tails. The lobster’s is composed of three 
round plates; while in the crawfish there is a di¬ 
vision in the second and third plates making five 
in all. Otherwise the difference in the two cousins 
is practically one of size and environment. 

“ The limy external skeleton of the crawfish 
resembles a crust, and as he is a typical specimen 
of a host of kindred, the name Crustacean is ap¬ 
plied to the whole order. Other well-known 
cousins are the crabs, barnacles, sow bugs, and 
water fleas. All the crustaceans are remarkable 
for the ease with which they adapt themselves to 
various and widely different conditions of life. 
We find them living in fresh water, in the sea, on 
land, and as parasites. In Mammoth Cave is a 
species of blind crawfish which shows plainly that 


198 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


it is a descendant of the forms outside which pos¬ 
sess perfect sight. While most crustaceans are 
solitary, a few like the shrimp much used for 
food, and the barnacles, are to be found banded 
together in vast shoals. There are more than 
10,000 species of Crustaceans known, and their 
value can scarcely be computed. The myriads of 
smaller forms constitute the chief fare of the 
fishes, and are thus indirectly valuable to man¬ 
kind ; while as natural scavengers all of the larger 
Crustacea are of vast economic importance. 

“ The crawfish in common with other.'; of his 
kind moults, or sheds his crust, whenever it be¬ 
comes too small for his body. While the baby 
crawfish is growing up, it moults frequently; later 
on in life the moult occurs but once a year. When 
about to don a new suit the animal retires to a 
secluded spot. It is a sorry bother, and bound 
to be more or less ludicrous. No doubt the little 
creature is quite wise in avoiding the eyes of 
others. After a few days of hunching with arms 
akimbo in the general discomfort of an extremely 
tight-fitting suit, the seam between the carapace 
and abdomen finally gives way, and the crawfish 
after many wriggles and contortions finally man¬ 
ages to slip out of the old shell. His body is now 
soft and unprotected, and he is, moreover, so 
tired and weak from his exertions that he is an 
easy prey if any enemy chances upon his retreat. 


QUEER CHIMNEY BUILDERS 199 

He stays still and quiet, and gets through the 
days somehow in the deepest meditation. Gen¬ 
erally at the end of a week he has formed a new 
crust or shell, and is ready to take his place once 
more in the affairs of the town. After all, per¬ 
haps, the whole incident is no worse than the 
trouble many a poor fellow has over his tailoring 
difficulties, myself included. Look at this jacket 
now: there are four buttons off! 

“ Crawfish reproduce by eggs. These remain 
attached to the swimmerets of the mother; and 
thus she carries them, and also the young in the 
early beginning of their career. When set adrift 
to fend for themselves, crawfish babies are tiny 
miniatures of their parents. They remain in the 
water until they have reached the age of dis¬ 
cretion, and are ready to found homes of their 
own in Crawfish Town. 

“ One species, which resembles our town dwell¬ 
ers, does not follow all the latters’ habits. It is 
found in our running streams and ponds, and 
spends its life in pools of fresh water. But, as 
said before, while the Crawfish tribe looks alike, 
there is no accounting for the vagaries of some 
branch of the family.” 


A CLEVER LOCKSMITH 


“ John, you pride yourself on being a rather 
clever locksmith, don’t you? ” queried Aunt 
Ruth, tactfully. “ I wish you would please see 
if you can fix the lock on the linen closet door. 
Something’s gone wrong with the mechanism, 
and I don’t like the idea of leaving the door ajar 
at this season of the year. I killed three clothes 
moths on the back porch this morning. Some 
way I had the feeling that every one of them had 
heard about that door, and were just watching 
for a chance to flit up the stairs.” 

“Locksmith! I say,” exclaimed Tommy, 
catching eagerly at the hint of craftsmanship, 
“ there’s a trade we haven’t thought of! But, of 
course, there are no locksmiths among Nature’s 
corp of laborers.” 

“ Indeed there are,” affirmed Uncle John, 
stoutly. “ And one of the cleverest of clever lit¬ 
tle people in the bargain! The trap-door spider. 
I meant to tell you about her this evening. I 
was reading about her a while ago. She is a trop¬ 
ical species, and quite as ingenious a miner as she 

is a locksmith. Her retreat is a shaft sunk in the 

200 


A CLEVER LOCKSMITH 201 

ground about twelve inches deep and an inch 
across. This shaft is very neatly and luxuriously 
lined with a fine silken lining, the product of the 
spider’s own spinnerets. Here the young hatch 
and live for a few weeks until they are old enough 
to make burrows of their own, and here the 
mother rests when she is not upon the hunt. 

“ Usually the nests of the trap-door spiders 
are found in pairs; however, there is some doubt 
as to whether these are occupied by the different 
sexes or not. But, knowing how touchy and ir¬ 
rational most spider females are, we should think 
it a very wise provision indeed for the husband to 
have a den of his own, especially one like the trap¬ 
doors fashion; for so clever is the little door with 
which they barricade their shaft, that when once 
the spider is inside on guard, holding the door 
down by means of its mandibles and feet, no 
enemy, no matter how bloodthirsty, can break 
in, unless it is strong enough to destroy the door. 
In such case, usually the would-be murderer has 
his effort for nothing; the spider is out and gone 
by means of a second trap-door, provided for just 
such an emergency. 

“ The trap-door spiders are large and hairy 
and are close kin to the tarantulas. They are 
fitted with a third claw which aids them in climb¬ 
ing the silken lining of their burrows, and they 
have, also, a special raking-tool or miner’s pick 


202 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


for dislodging the earth in their construction 
work. Always the site chosen for their home is 
in a sloping bank, and the task of digging out the 
tunnel is laborious enough. But it is gone at with 
a will, the dirt being loosened fast and furiously, 
rolled into a ball, and thrown out with the strong, 
spiny hind-legs. One observed took an hour to 
dig a hollow about the size of a hickory-nut. 

“ Once the tunnel is completed, the next job 
is to coat the walls thoroughly with saliva. This 
mixes with the earth and forms a cement which is 
thoroughly water-proof, and so firm that the en¬ 
tire nest is often dug out and carried away by 
collectors. Different types of the trap-door spi¬ 
ders build differently, but the past-masters of the 
clan all build branched tunnels, the palm going to 
the species, which, as soon as one shaft is finished, 
builds another leading upward from the bottom 
of the first, the whole construction when com¬ 
pleted forming an angle like the letter V. Small 
hope is there of every waylaying this latter wise 
little denizen in her burrow! Should an enemy 
manage to step in at one entrance, the other shaft 
offers a quick and speedy avenue of retreat. 

“ Now as to the door itself: there are two types 
of trap-lids built. The simplest of these is termed 
the wafer type. This is merely a thick flap, com¬ 
posed of silky thread, firmly cemented with earth 
and saliva to make it strong and water-proof. 



© Paul C. Howes 


TRAP-DOOR SPIDER 


AT ITS NEST 










A CLEVER LOCKSMITH 203 

But it fits perfectly, overlapping the edge of the 
tunnel carefully all around. The little worker 
knows full well that, if there are any cracks or 
chinks, water will soon come in and flood out her¬ 
self and her babies. The second, or cork type of 
door, is a thick stopple with carefully beveled 
edges, which fits into the opening as neatly as 
ever a cork fitted a jug. Some species build a 
folding trap-door of the wafer type; in this case 
the two halves of the door fold back on either 
side. When closed, the line where they meet in 
the middle is absolutely straight and tight, by 
which it is plain that the little builder adds a 
master knowledge of the carpenter’s craft to her 
other accomplishments. 

“ Nor is this all: she is a graduate in the school 
of camouflage. For once her trap-door is con¬ 
structed, be it plain wafer, cork, or folding in 
type, she proceeds at once to disguise it so 
cleverly that not one in a hundred would ever 
sight it as a door, or dream of the home which it 
conceals. This is done by gluing over its surface 
an apt copy of the surrounding character of the 
bank itself. Bits of dead leaves, mosses, pieces 
of grass, tiny stones, even an accidental 4 stick ’ 
thrown in helter-skelter helps in the concealment. 
So cleverly is it done that how the spider herself 
knows her own door, once she leaves it, is a mys¬ 
tery which only she understands. But she never 


204 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


errs; moreover, when hotly pursued, she can dash 
up at a run, and disappear inside in a twinkling. 
Wise men say there is a very ingenious ‘ door 
knob ’ in this clever little door; one that human 
eyes cannot discern without the aid of a glass. 
It consists of two little holes into which the spi¬ 
der deftly thrusts her legs and pulls up the door; 
once inside, these legs are again thrust into the 
holes and the door drawn shut. 

“ The hinge of this fairy door is the final 
triumph of the little worker’s skill. It is made of 
layer after layer of strong, silky thread, thou¬ 
sands upon thousands of strands, all woven 
closely together, and then bound on one side to 
the door, and on the other to the shaft. Indeed, 
there is really no 4 join ’ on this latter side, for 
the deft hinge is in truth a continuation of the 
same silk which lines the little home. The hinge 
works perfectly, with never a creak or a bind, 
and withal the little door is so light and moves so 
freely that the spider easily lifts it with her head 
when she wishes to come out. 

44 On a certain occasion experimenters at San 
Diego, California, carried away the lids of sixty 
trap-door nests one evening. Next morning each 
spider had a new door fixed securely in place. 
The trick was played again and again. Each 
time the poor victims replaced the lost door, but 
with each rebuilding the workmanship decreased, 


A CLEVER LOCKSMITH 205 

owing, it was plain, to the diminished state of the 
spider’s silk. Finally, the fifth door was built al¬ 
most entirely of mud, with scarce enough silk to 
hinge it properly, and the ill-used spiders were 
then left in peace. But yet man’s ‘ ingenuity ’ 
suggested another test for the skill of the little 
trap-door householders. Going on to a new lo¬ 
cality, the trap-doors were securely fastened 
down. Were the little locksmiths imprisoned in 
their homes? Not at all. Each and every one 
built a branch tunnel, and opened a door from it. 

“ The eggs of the trap-door spiders are placed 
in a little silken wall-pocket inside the burrow. 
The food of these spiders consists largely of ants 
and other small wingless creatures, though they 
do not despise a good juicy earthworm, or a fat 
caterpillar.” 


A RASCALLY HUNCHBACK 


“ See Here, Uncle John,” Tommy began, fish¬ 
ing in his bulging pocket for the wherewithal to 
point his remarks, “ I’ve been on what Ruth calls 
a 4 detecting tour,’ and I want you to explain 
what this means. Alice says it looks like the 
hieroglyphics of some insect Ku Klux Klan.” 

And the lad laid on the table a miscellaneous 
collection of green cherries, plums and small 
peaches, each one bearing the following strange 
cabalistic sign heavily stamped on the side: 

•> 

“ Ha!” ejaculated Uncle John, sharply. 
44 Where did you get these, boy? Not in our or¬ 
chard, surely.” 

44 No, sir. They came from that little old neg¬ 
lected garden of the Widow Trueblood’s. But 
why are you so certain they could not have been 
found on our premises? ” 

44 Because we wage a heavjr spray campaign 

every year against the rough customers who 

make a business of going about despoiling fruit 

206 


A RASCALLY HUNCHBACK 207 

with their free-hand designs. After they have 
had a good bite of arsenate of lead naturally they 
do not care much about arts and crafts! The 
perpetrator of this careless deed is a wicked little 
humpbacked dwarf called the plum curculio. The 
word plum is a misnomer, as you can see by your 
collection. In truth, if any special name were to 
be given the hunchback, apricot curculio w r ould be 
the most fitting, as it really prefers the apricot 
to anything else. However, the first scientist to 
discover it found it doing excessive damage to 
plums, and plum curculio it became forthwith. 
The name has clung, notwithstanding that every 
one now knows that the little wretch works not 
only on all the stone fruits, but on the apple as 
well. 

“ The curculios spend the winter under fallen 
leaves and trash upon the ground, the most likely 
place being little gulleys and * pockets ’ where 
the leaves have drifted deep, and been thoroughly 
packed by the soaking fall rains. You might pry 
into such a den, and then never see the little 
hunchbacks unless you looked very, very closely. 
For they are dressed in a veritable tramp’s garb, 
so dingy and soiled that their general grayish- 
brown blends in well with their surroundings. 
Even such bright-eyed little people as the quail 
and chewink—our forest chickens—will scratch 
over and over in a well-populated bed and never 


208 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


discover the little hiders, so long as they lay per¬ 
fectly motionless, which they are quite wise 
enough to do. 

“ At the first hint of blossom-time, the hunch¬ 
backs rouse up and hike for the nearest fruit 
trees. They do not have much appetite at first, 
but they nibble a little here and there at the 
j^oung leaves and blossoms. By and by their 
sluggish interest warms up, and when the fruit 
begins to form, unless they have chanced into the 
trees of a progressive orchardist, they are in fine, 
hearty condition, and the mother curculio begins 
to lay her eggs. 

“With her long snout she makes a small cut 
through the skin, running down into the fruit 
about one-sixteenth of an inch. In this cavity the 
egg is placed. Then, with wise foresight, the lit¬ 
tle mother cuts a crescent-shaped slit in front of 
the egg chamber, the object being to cause the 
fruit about the tiny egg to wilt, and thus prevent 
the crushing of the larvse by the swelling of a 
fast-growing cradle. With so much food close at 
hand, the little white footless grub grows mirac¬ 
ulously, and in from three to five weeks, when the 
fruit, shriveled and crippled by its voraciousness, 
falls to the ground, it is ready to vacate the use¬ 
less hull. Quickly and surely it burrows into the 
earth to a depth of from four to six inches, and 
there takes its pupa sleep. The nap is not a long 


A RASCALLY HUNCHBACK 209 

one, however; in from three to six weeks the full 
grown adult, a wicked, miserable little hunchback, 
emerges, and joins the summer loiterers, drifting 
about hither and yon until the fast-falling leaves 
warns it to seek a winter bed. They are a single 
brood species, hence these beetles, while they feed 
on both fruit and leaves, do not lay any eggs until 
the following spring. Then the females hurry 
from fruit to fruit, ripping recklessly here and 
there with their destructive little snouts, each one 
making and stocking anywhere from two hun¬ 
dred to five hundred crescent-guarded cradles. 
Sometimes several eggs are laid on large speci¬ 
mens, like the apricot, the peach and the plum. 
Every time you find a 4 worm ’ in any of the stone 
fruits, you may be pretty sure that it is the grub 
of the curculio. 

44 The apple curculio is the least common of 
this great band of dwarfs, and by far the most 
humped and disfigured. Her snout is as long as 
her body, and she chisels deeply, striving to put 
her egg as near the core as possible. When the 
grub hatches, it at once begins to excavate a tun¬ 
nel toward the heart of the apple, and if it suc¬ 
ceeds in reaching its goal, the fruit soon stops 
growing, shrinks and shrivels, and at length drops 
to the ground, allowing the full-grown larvae a 
chance to escape and pupate in its earthen cell, 
in the same manner as do the stone-fruit curculio. 


210 


NATURE'S CRAFTSMEN 


But, if for any reason the apple manages to with¬ 
stand the onslaughts of the grub and clings stead¬ 
fastly to the tree, a strange thing happens. The 
grub, foiled in its usual method of escape, knows 
not how to combat the situation; it is not hungry, 
having reached its growth, and shortly it loses 
heart and dies. Little by little its body is ab¬ 
sorbed by the growing fruit tissues. Its trail, 
however, never altogether disappears. Perhaps 
some time when eating an apple, you may have 
noted a thin streak of hardened, rather green¬ 
looking character, extending from the surface of 
the apple toward the core. This marks the prog¬ 
ress of the little curculio in its attempt to outrun 
the growth of the apple and get at its heart. Fail¬ 
ing in this desire, it was itself overcome and ab¬ 
sorbed. Nothing remains but the faint trace of 
its tunnel. 

“ The time the curculios remain in their earth 
cradles depends not a little on weather conditions. 
If the season is dry and hot, they stay drowsily 
hidden away. If, however, heavy showers follow 
one after another, the hunchbacks hustle into 
their adult clothes and hurry up into the trees. 
As though they knew full well their own destruc¬ 
tive character and the feelings they rouse in the 
bosom of the orchardist, they are exceedingly 
shy. One good shake of the limb on which they 
have settled, and they quickly let go with all six 


A RASCALLY HUNCHBACK 211 


legs and tumble to the ground, hoping there to 
make a neat get-away, by reason of their clever 
camouflage garments. This maneuver works less 
often than formerly, for man has learned this 
trait, and many orchardists take the precaution 
of spreading a trap for the beetles ere the limb 
is jarred. Usually, however, the spring spray¬ 
ing is calculated to take care of the curculios. 
If they get a nice breakfast of arsenate of lead 
shortly after awakening from their winter’s sleep, 
they never live to injure the fruit.” 


SOME OF NATURE’S CHORISTERS 


“ Well,” giggled Alice, from the depths of the 
“ Joke Column ” she was reading, “ listen to this: 

4 1 hear they have the King of the Bullfrogs in 
jail.’ 4 What for? ’ 4 Somebody heard him talk¬ 
ing about smuggling a Jug-er-rum! ’ ” 

44 So he did,” Tommy laughed, delightedly. 44 1 
heard him myself, just last night, and the tidings 
seemed to create all sorts of commotion all over 
Frog Town. There were various deep-drawn 
4 Ker-chogs! ’ Advice no doubt as to what to do 
with the Jug-er-rum! And then came a vigorous 
scoffing of ‘Ker-peep, ker-peep!’ I’ll bet you 
anything you like, they were hazing some peeper.” 

44 Our reading lesson to-day was about a great 
frog parade,” commented Ruth, her eyes shining. 
44 And I’ll bet you can’t guess what the captain’s 
steed was? A little green lizard! Yes, sir. And 
how proud they all were as they marched away 
after him! Their spears of marsh grass were 
over their shoulders. Water weeds made the fine 
plumes in their caps. Their flags had all grown 
in the pool. For trumpets they had the seed 

pods of the water-lily. And such music as they 

212 











NATURE S CHORISTERS 


213 


made! All the frogs kept perfect time, and as 
they went they shouted and sang. Wouldn’t you 
just love to see such a parade? Our book says 
it is something no human eyes may ever see; for, 
let one but come near the pool, and down go 
all the frogs her plug! But always, if we listen 
when the sun goes down, we may hear their 
trumpets blow. That’s what I heard last night,” 
and she looked at Tommy rather pointedly, 
plainly suspecting him of romancing. 

“ Isn’t it true that we always get what we are 
looking for? ” Auntie observed sagely. “ As for 
me, I pictured a frog school as I listened to the 
medley, and said over to myself some old verses 
I have not thought of in years: 

“ Twenty froggies went to school 
Down beside a rushy pool; 

Twenty little coats of green, 

Twenty vests all white and clean. 


* 

“ 6 We must He in time , 5 said they, 
6 First we study then we play; 
That is how we keep the rule, 
When we froggies go to school . 5 


^Master Bullfrog, grave and stern, 
Called the classes in their turn; 
Taught them how to nobly strive, 
Also how to leap and dive. 


214 


NATURE S CRAFTSMEN 


“ From his seat upon the log, 

Taught them how to say ‘ Ker-chog! * 

Taught them how to dodge the blows 
From the sticks the bad boy throws. 

“ Twenty froggies grew up fast. 

Bullfrogs they became at last; 

Not a dunce among the lot, 

Not a lesson they forgot. 

“ Polished in a high degree, 

As each froggie ought to be; 

Now they sit on other logs, 

Teaching other little frogs.” 

“ And I,” contributed Uncle John, as Miss 
Merryhew turned obligingly to the table to write 
down the lines in response to the children’s de¬ 
lighted request,—“ I, in my dry and scientific 
way, simply catalogued the frogs as some of 
Nature’s most delightful choristers, and then re¬ 
alized that I had hit upon a rather interesting 
group—Nature’s musicians. How many of them 
can you name offhand—not counting the birds, of 
course.” 

“ First of all,” offered Mabel, “ is the house 
cricket—the cricket of the hearth. Since Time 
began he has been pictured with the comfortable 
fireside and the steaming kettle.” 

“ And there is no cosier note,” commented 
Grandfather, briefly. “ But alas! in these days 


NATURE’S CHORISTERS 


215 


of perfect architecture and careful housekeeping, 
it is one heard far too seldom.” 

“ The crickets get their name from the French 
word cricri ” Uncle John informed, “ and they 
are a voluble race. Many of our field crickets 
are decidedly musical, but their music is of the 
shrill variety, pitched according to Scudder at 
' e natural, two octaves above middle c! The 
cricket song most common in our vicinity comes 
from a tree species called the snowy tree cricket. 
Strangely enough, the number of the cricket’s 
notes per minute varies according to temperature, 
running about one hundred chirps to sixty-five 
degrees Fahrenheit, and there is said to be a dis¬ 
tinct difference between the day song and the 
night song. Riley interprets the day version as 
sounding a cry of re-teat, re-teat; while another 
writer says it is an invitation to treat — treat — 
treat . Burroughs loved this cricket’s notes and 
spoke of them as a ‘ rhythmic beat.’ Hawthorne 
called it an ‘ audible stillness,’ and fancied that 
if moonlight could be heard it would sound like 
the snowy cricket’s song. Little is really known 
about the life history of even our commonest 
crickets, and it must be full of interesting detail. 
You could gain an audience among the bugolo- 
gists, Tommy, by working up some one of them. 
Suppose you try? I will help what I can.” 

“ Katy-did! ” The shrill call from somewhere 


216 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


out in the shrubbery was decidedly early for the 
season, but most opportune, and the occupants 
of the Dayton porch laughed appreciatively. 

“ Score one for Katy,” exulted Tommy de¬ 
lightedly, “ even if she did! ” 

“ Did what? ” queried Ruth, round-eyed. 

“ Aye, what,” Auntie murmured, “ for ages we 
have been querying that. Isn’t it Oliver Wendell 
Holmes who says: 

“ Peace to the ever-murmuring race! 

And when the last one 
Shall fold in death her feeble wings, 

Beneath the autumn’s sun, 

Then shall she raise her fainting voice, 

And lift her drooping lid, 

And the children of future years 
Shall hear what Katy did.” 

“ I doubt if we ever know, chicken,” said Uncle 
John, smiling at Auntie, and stooping to swing 
Ruthie up on his knee, “ Dr. Holmes to the con¬ 
trary notwithstanding. He was a very wise man, 
but he did not know much about katydids, that is 
certain, for he proclaimed: 

66 Thou art a female Katy-did! 

I know it by the trill 
That quivers through thy piercing 
notes, 

So petulant and shrill. 

“And all who know katydids know that the 
females never make a sound! Whatever it was 


NATURE’S CHORISTERS 


217 


that Katy did,—and it must have been something 
awful, judging from the clatter that has sounded 
down the years,—her own sex, at least, do not 
deride her. The charge comes from the male 
members of the clan, who voice their convictions 
by rasping their wings over an odd rounded 
membrane which is fitted with file-like teeth. The 
effect is harsh and strident and carries on the still 
night air so as often to be heard more than a 
quarter of a mile away. Occasionally some par¬ 
ticularly vehement performer will proclaim 
loudly, ‘ Katy she did! ’ Then all the other katy¬ 
dids in the vicinity, refusing to be outdone by 
such triumphant exhibition, immediately sound 
the accusation in like measure 4 Katy-sAe-did! 
Ivaty-sfttf-did! ’ The confused medley is laugh¬ 
able, if nothing more. Some folks think that 
they are calling, 4 Katy didn't,' It does, in fact, 
sound like a constant squabble to me, as to 
whether Katy ‘ did ’ or ‘ didn’t.’ 

“ There is a good deal of disagreement about 
the musical character of the katydid’s perform¬ 
ance,” laughed Uncle John. “ He is an instru¬ 
mentalist, not a vocalist, you understand, and his 
4 music,’ despite its questionable wording, is very 
probably a love song. Some writers recognize a 
quaint melody in his notes, others say his song 
is grating and disagreeable. Scudder proclaims 
that the poets who have sung the katydid’s praises 



218 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 

must have heard him at the distance that lends 
enchantment. 

“ The katydid is close kin to the grasshoppers 
and the crickets. It is strictly an American spe¬ 
cies ; no such performer being found in any coun¬ 
try across the sea. There are several types of 
katydids, the broad-winged species being consid¬ 
ered as the ‘ true ’ katydid. This species spends 
its whole life in the densest foliage of tree, shrub, 
and vine, and is more often heard than seen. In¬ 
deed, one needs must look pretty sharply to find 
it, for so closely does it resemble the foliage it 
dwells among, that it is scarcely discernible when 
motionless. Their food consists of leaves and ten¬ 
der twigs. If they were present in such numbers 
as grasshoppers frequently are, they would do no 
little damage. But they are a solitary tribe, and 
prefer to dwell alone save for a brief period at 
mating time. 

“ The eggs are laid in September or October, 
in little double rows along the surface of small 
twigs. There are eight or nine eggs in each row 
and they overlap one another like the shingles on 
a roof, being fastened to the twig and to each 
other by a special gummy substance of the moth¬ 
er’s own manufacture. They are impervious to 
storms of wind and rain, and Jack Frost has no 
power with them. In May, the young come 
forth, looking much like their parents save that 


NATURE’S CHORISTERS 219 

they have no wings. As they grow in size they 
shed their skin, and with each new garb the wings 
show more and more, until after the fifth molt 
they appear fully developed, and the young katy¬ 
dids are now grown up. This is usually about 
the first of August, and now one whose ear is 
tuned to Nature’s sounds will frequently hear a 
new beginner lisping f Katy! Katy! * His in¬ 
strument seems to require a good deal of tuning 
and scraping before he finally brings out a 
triumphant ' Katy-did! 9 But when once he has 
the plaint in motion, he is capable of keeping up 
the sound monotonously all night long. Katy¬ 
dids seldom sound their notes in the daytime. 
To do so would be to reveal their hiding-places to 
the birds, and be, in brief, little short of plain 
suicide.” 

“ Self-defense, no doubt, explains why so many 
of Nature’s small choristers prefer to sound their 
lays at night,” Auntie reflected. “ Little inter¬ 
mediate sounds many of them are, for the most 
part scarce sounds at all. They would pass all 
unnoted in the day’s busy turmoil, but at night 
when all is still they add full measure to the peace 
and charm of the quiet eveningtide. Cowper 
puts the thought most pleasingly: 

“ Sounds inharmonious in themselves and harsh, 

Yet, heard in scenes where peace forever reigns, 
And only there, please highly for their sake.” 


AN APPLE THIEF 


“ Ugh!” Tommy ejaculated, hurriedly eject¬ 
ing the bite of apple which he had taken in too 
great haste, secure in the belief that their apple 
boxes contained none but perfect fruit. But 
alas! he had unwittingly dipped into a box of 
“ seconds,” which Mother had saved to work up, 
and he eyed ruefully the tiny dirty-white worm 
lying all crumpled in the palm of his hand. 
“ Here’s a nasty little apple thief, Uncle John,” 
he sputtered scornfully. “ Can you name him? ” 
“ Codling-moth,” was the brief reply. “ His 
color identifies him. There’s another apple thief, 
known as the lesser apple-worm, which looks 
much like this fellow. But it is pink at all times. 
When full grown and ready to leave his luscious 
apple house, the codling-moth larvae is quite pink, 
too. However, the little dots of black along his 
back always distinguish him.” 

“ But I thought we sprayed twice for codling- 
moths? ” Alice ventured, uncertainly. 

“ So we did,” Uncle John affirmed. “ But no 
matter how thoroughly the work is done, enough 

specimens always survive to make the fight an 

220 


AN APPLE THIEF 


221 


endless one. Codling-moths cost the fruit grow¬ 
ers of America at least ten million dollars annu¬ 
ally. They work in the hearts of apples and 
pears, and for every fruit that manages to survive 
the attacks of these little thieves and develops 
sufficiently to come to the mouth of a would-be 
feaster, there are bushels which are entirely 
ruined, and fall to the ground undersized and 
worthless.” 

“ I know codling-moth eggs,” volunteered 
Tommy. “ They are like very tiny drops of 

milk, no larger than a small pin-head and slightly 
flattened in shape.” 

“ Only when strictly fresh are they pearly- 
white in color,” Uncle John corrected. “ Within 
a day or two they begin to show slightly reddish, 
owing to the fact that the little thief inside is be¬ 
ginning to grow. In a week or ten days it is out, 
a tiny creature not more than one-sixteenth of an 
inch in length, seeking eagerly what it may de¬ 
vour. And anything is grist which comes to its 

mill, whether it be leaf or fruit. Shortly, how¬ 
ever, it develops a decided preference for fruit, 
and instinct directs it to the blossom-end as the 
easiest and most suitable entrance. 

“ Now you know what the blossom-end of a 
young apple looks like. It is filled with a tiny 
cluster of tender leaf-like projections—all that 
remains of the calyx of the apple blossom. To 


222 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 

the tiny worm these little lobes are a veritable 
protective forest, and it slinks gratefully in 
among them, knowing full well that here it is 
safely hidden from the many bright eyes that are 
in turn peering eagerly about for food. And 
here the little worm tarries for a time browsing 
on what we may well term the shrubbery of the 
forest. Now, if the orchardist has been fore¬ 
handed, the worm shortly fills his stomach with 
the tiny particles of spray dope that have been 
scattered there, and he dies without doing any 
noticeable damage. 

“It is important that the blossom-end of the 
fruit be filled with the poison at a certain stage; 
for the tiny forest does not long remain free and 
open, the little lobes of the calyx draw tightly to¬ 
gether, and the way to the heart of the apple is 
securely closed. The little apple thief knows 
how this will be, and at the first warning of 
shrinkage in its tiny pasture, it slips inside the 
door, and begins a courageous tunneling toward 
the core of the fruit, knowing that there it will 
find tiny growing chambers well-suited to its in¬ 
dividual needs. Imagine yourselves shut into a 
tight little room filled with meat and drink, with 
nothing to do but to eat your way out when you 
got ready! There might be drawbacks to the sit¬ 
uation, but the little apple-worm discerns none. 
Safe and secure it feeds and grows lustily. 


AN APPLE THIEF 


223 


“ Not all of the little pests grow up in the same 
time; some may take but three weeks, others may 
be a month or more at the business. One and all, 
however, reach a day when their prison house 
becomes intolerable. With prompt dispatch they 
set about tunneling toward the surface; but they 
do not pop out the moment they have cut a door¬ 
way. Something warns them that it is never 
wise to be in too great a hurry. Therefore, a halt 
is called, and a little plug woven of silk and refuse 
is made to stop up the exit. Behind this barrier 
the apple thief takes counsel with itself, and no 
doubt carefully plans out an exact method of 
procedure. If it happens to be a bit slow-witted, 
it may occupy several days in calm deliberation. 

“ Then, sure of itself, it quietly opens its door 
by pushing out the plug, crawls out across the 
fruit, and, if unmolested, proceeds serenely by 
way of twig, branch, and limb to the trunk of the 
tree. Here it moves more slowly. It is house¬ 
hunting, and presently a site is found which 
seems in every way desirable. Usually this is 
under a bit of shaggy bark not far from the 
ground. This is one of the reasons why the good 
orchardist takes care to keep the trunks of his 
trees in smooth, perfect condition. Well he 
knows what harbors rough and tattered bark 
affords! 

“ Safe inside its chosen refuge, the apple-worm 


224 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


winds itself in a silken cocoon and rests from its 
hazardous journey. How tired and sleepy it is! 
Food is not necessary now. Utterly relaxed and 
motionless it lies for days on end, simply waiting 
for Time to work its way with it. In about three 
weeks Nature triumphs; the skin of the hard lit¬ 
tle brown object, not more than half an inch long, 
into which the worm has been turned, now splits 
down the back, and out comes the full-grown 
moth from its pupa case. As Riley puts it, its 
wings are 4 still damp with the imprint of the 
great stereotyping establishment of the Al¬ 
mighty,’ but they are soon dried. And once the 
crumples are fully shaken out, the moths soar 
madly away to test their power. They soon find 
their mates and swirl about in a gay honeymoon 
which is as brief as it is rapturous. 

44 Mrs. Codling-moth is a decidedly plain-look¬ 
ing little person, with a wing expanse of about 
three-quarters of an inch. The bridegroom is a 
trifle smaller, and both of them are so nearly the 
color of the apple-tree trunk that it takes a good 
eye to note them against it, so long as they re¬ 
main motionless. The young of these codling- 
moths hatch about the first of July. Of course, 
it is too late to think of getting into the apple 
pantries by way of the door in the calyx grove. 
This is now tightly locked and double-locked. 
But the little thieves must get in, and they lose 


AN APPLE THIEF 


22 5 


no time in pondering over the matter. They be¬ 
gin to tunnel right where they land, and this as 
often as not is in the side of the apple. Unless 
the orchardist has taken the precautions to give 
the fruit a thorough covering of spray dope—we 
use arsenate of lead—the worm is not long in 
burying itself from sight. 

“ Thenceforward its career is the same as that 
of its parents, with this difference: Ordinarily, 
when the second brood leaves the shelter of the 
apple, the season is near its close. They get 
themselves into some carefully secluded shelter 
and prudently wrap themselves up warmly there 
to sleep through the winter in their pupa cases, 
emerging in the spring about blossom-time. Of 
course, there are always certain specimens, like 
the one you have found, Tommy, which are so 
belated that they meet death in their luscious 
nurseries. In some localities, when spring opens 
unusually early, three broods of codling-moths 
are registered.” 



A BAND OF PIRATES 

“ Suppose we go down to the pond,” sug¬ 
gested Uncle John, wisely taking the initiative in 
choosing a spot for their half-holiday. “ There 
is a host of little people there of whom I never 
tire. First of all, basking in the warm mud 
along the edge are the little frog tadpoles, a small 
black legion of divers interests. Close in among 
the reeds are the little fleets of caddis submarines, 
than which no boat is more ingenious. Near by 
the orange-bellied newt carefully holds to his 
course by means of his broad rudder-shaped tail, 
and in the deep places the water beetles, those 
crafty pirates of the pond, dive alertly carrying 
with them an extra supply of oxygen in an air- 
bubble held at the tip of the wing-cases. Whirl¬ 
ing dizzily on the surface in curious twists and 
curves are the whirligig beetles; while hard by the 
pond-skaters glide swiftly along with funny side- 
strokes such as you boys can never hope to equal. 
Likewise, there also are to be found the water- 
boatmen, those queer creatures whose heads are 
so lightly attached to their bodies that they al¬ 
most seem to float free of them, and the flat- 

226 


A BAND OF PIRATES 227 

water scorpions, and dragon-fly grubs, not to 
mention the plump pond-snails, leeches, and the 
little canoes of mosquitoes-to-be.” 

“ The pond! the pond! ” shouted Tommy and 
Max enthusiastically, notwithstanding the fact 
that two-thirds of their spare time was always 
spent at this interesting retreat. “ But,” Tommy 
naively explained, when some one mentioned this 
fact, “ we go swimming then! ” 

To be sure! You boys all understand how 
that is: you are so busy having a perfectly de¬ 
lightful time yourselves that you give small heed 
to the affairs of the tiny water dwellers whom 
your antics have doubtless driven to cover. If 
you mean to get acquainted with pond life, a trip 
must be made for that purpose alone; this the 
Dayton boys well knew, and they lost no time 
in doing their part to get the expedition under 
way. 

“ Please let’s not waste any time on tadpoles,” 
begged Alice, on arriving at the water’s edge; 
“ we all know them. Let’s look for the caddis 
submarines. ‘ Stones that move, 5 one authority 
terms them; but I’ve never been able to find any¬ 
thing of the sort. The ones I have taken up on 
suspicion are never anything but plain old pud¬ 
ding-stones.” 

“ Not all caddis submarines are built of 
stones,” Uncle John informed. “ Indeed, the 


228 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 

most common one of all is built of stiff roots, 
which have long steeped and peeled under water. 
The caddis worm, which as you may know is the 
grub of the caddis fly, is a clever spinner and 
weaver. Having gathered sufficient bits of root 
material it proceeds to fashion them into a tiny 
tube-like basket of wickerwork; then to make the 
whole thoroughly water-proof it plasters the 
chinks with a cement made from saliva and fine 
grains of sand, with bits of leaves thrown in to 
take the place of the hair used by plasterers. 
Next in order are the decorations, which follow 
the old homily 4 Beauty is not all in seeming.’ 
They consist of a little row of spikes, fashioned 
of tiny sticks cut exactly the same length and set 
up all around the edge of the basket, serving not 
only to enhance its attractions, but to give it 
strength and at the same time to afford protec¬ 
tion. Ingenious enough they are, but they make 
the little craft hard to steer, and when the worm 
gets heavier it is often obliged to forsake this boat 
and build another of lighter materials. 

“ There are something like one hundred and 
fifty species of caddis worms in our country; 
naturally they build a wide variety of homes. 
Some prefer simple little flat basket boats; others 
build a triangular design; the least common spe¬ 
cies of all fashion a silken horn, which tapers to a 
sharp point. Not a few of them decorate their 


229 


A BAND OF PIRATES 

dwellings with tiny snail shells, those having liv¬ 
ing inhabitants being preferred, as their own 
habitation is thus more likely to escape detection. 
The simplest homes of all are those built by the 
caddis worms hatched in swift-moving streams; 
these are merely a few sticks and pebbles glued 
together and fastened to the lower side of a stone. 
The most elaborate caddis dwellings are built of 
mosses, leaves, and sand, run up in the form of 
a tall chimney, with a door at the top. Fabre’s 
caddis worms built magnificent ivory palaces in 
his aquarium from the rice grains which he sup¬ 
plied.” 

“ Hi! ” exulted Tommy, whose bright eyes 
had been busily alert, and he bent swiftly over 
almost on the instant, snatching up a little bunch 
of pebbles which held securely together, but 
which failed to disclose any sign of occupancy. 
“ The thing moved, I saw it!” ruminated the 
boy, as he studied it closely. “ It went right over 
a tiny snail, and when it had passed the snail was 
gone! But there isn’t any door that I can see; 
nothing at all, indeed, by which the craft, if it is 
one, could be moved.” 

“ What about that tiny crevice there? ” sug¬ 
gested Uncle John, pointing to a little rift be¬ 
tween the two “ front ” stones. “ Suppose you 
pry those apart with your knife.” 

Quickly Tommy acted upon this advice, and 


230 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 

the secret of the pebbles yielded into his hand— 
a nice fat caddis worm. 

“ You see,” observed Uncle John, “ self-pres¬ 
ervation warned him to withdraw into his strong¬ 
hold when he was snatched up so rudely. Ordi¬ 
narily he keeps his head and front legs sticking 
out his door, the latter being used as paddles, and 
in this manner he tows his little house-boat along. 
Being white, his person merely sparkles like a 
tiny point of light, and he is all unobserved by 
human eyes, but not thus easily does he pass 
among his neighbors. Always as he sails slowly 
about fishing for a living, he must keep a wary 
eye out for the foes who fain would make a meal 
of him. 

“ Many of the caddis worm tribe spin webs as 
the spiders do to trap their prey. These web 
nets are slung across an opening between two 
stones, and open up-stream. Here tiny minnows 
and other water prizes are taken before they so 
much as guess their danger. Not a few of the 
house-boat builders, however, are almost entirely 
vegetarians. They feed upon the foliage of the 
water plants. If you keep your eyes open this 
afternoon, it is just possible that you may chance 
upon one of these interesting little specimens la¬ 
boriously towing its boat after it as it climbs up a 
plant stem. It will browse about a bit, and sun 
itself, then drop quietly back into the water. 


A BAND OF PIRATES 


231 


“ These clever little folks are able to float at 
will along on the surface of the water. They are 
not very skilful at their oars, to be sure, but they 
can turn and tack about and get along well 
enough to suit their needs. They can also dip 
down with surprising suddenness, stopping at 
any desired depth in the water. How do you 
explain this? The worms themselves are help¬ 
less looking, as you can see by the specimen 
Tommy has captured.—Ah, don’t throw him 
away, boy,” as Tommy’s arm was raised to de¬ 
posit the unfortunate worm in the water. “ Take 
him home with vou, and watch him build a new 
submarine! You can put him in a glass jar, and 
supply him with whatever materials your fancy 
pleases. 

“ His old boat is too badly wrecked to be sea¬ 
worthy, but even if it were not, I can assure you 
that it would not float without the boatman. 
However does he manage? Let us see: when at 
rest in the bottom of the pond his plump little 
body comfortably fills his boat. Suppose he 
takes a notion to go to the surface and have a look 
around. Apparently he cannot rise unaided; he 
climbs slowly up a reed stalk, painstakingly drag¬ 
ging his boat along after him. Once at the level 
of the water, he sticks the front of his body out of 
his sheath, leaving a vacant space in the tightly- 
closed rear of his boat, which like the vacuum in 


232 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


a pump when one draws out the piston, promptly 
fills with air, and presto! the worm is able to float 
about to suit his pleasure. The air in the stern, 
you see, buoys up the little craft, just as the air 
in a life-preserver holds a person up in the water. 
If an enemy approaches, or if for any reason 
whatever the worm wishes to go below, all he 
needs to do is to draw in his body, thus expelling 
the air, when his little submarine sinks instantly. 
Progress downward is controlled by the action of 
the occupant: he can stop any time he pleases 
simply by thrusting his body forward and out, 
thus taking on a ballast of air.” 

“ Seems to me the caddis worm should be rea¬ 
sonably safe from enemies,” Alice commented 
musingly. “ Few creatures, I imagine, would 
think of swallowing a bunch of floating sticks or 
pebbles! ” 

“ You forget that the eyes of the water crea¬ 
tures are sharper than ours in some respects,” 
smiled Uncle John. “ They know the caddis 
worm’s habits, and not a few of them are always 
on the alert to catch him unawares. Wait! I be¬ 
lieve we can have some good sport,” and Uncle 
John in his turn stooped and brought up a little 
caddis boat. Then he beckoned silently and 
moved quietly alongshore until he reached a fair¬ 
sized rock which jutted out into the water. From 
this broad vantage point a group of shiny black 


233 


A BAND OF PIRATES 

creatures, all of an inch and a half in length, were 
diving like schoolboys into the depths of the pool. 

“Water beetles!” exclaimed Uncle John 
briefly. “ See the little bubbles of oxygen at the 
edge of their chests, shining like little silver 
breastplates? That’s what makes them so agile 
in the water. Now watch! ” 

His good baseball arm sent the little caddis 
boat spinning lightly along on the top of the 
water to sink just short of the busy little divers. 
Instantly one and all were at attention, and they 
waited with a tenseness which failed to detect the 
watchers alongshore. Nor were they kept long 
in suspense. Evidently the caddis worm was 
puzzled at such a strange procedure, and in due 
course it came laboriously up a weed stalk near 
at hand to reconnoiter. A trifle dazed it must 
have been; for, ere it was aware, it had launched 
out into the very midst of its enemies. Quick as 
they were to seize him, the caddis worm was even 
quicker; indeed he jerked back into his house so 
quickly that, as Alice observed, they almost heard 
the door slam! 

But the pirates were in no wise daunted; 
plainly they had often met with just such a re¬ 
buff. All of them bent to the task of breaking 
the small boat in pieces, pulling viciously this 
way and that, and striving desperately until there 
was a sharp rending, and the tiny shells which 


234 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


decorated the boat crumbled in their grasp. But 
if they expected to get the caddis worm then they 
were mistaken. Too well and carefully had his 
house been woven and cemented; it would take 
yet more vigorous pressure, and the villains 
braced themselves and prepared to squeeze with 
might and main. 

Then a joyful thing happened; for, all sud¬ 
denly, as the pirates strained with down-bent 
heads, the watchers saw the house door open a 
crack, and then the caddis worm slipped between 
the feet of the would-be murderers and sank out 
of sight amid the reeds. Nor were the rascals 
aware of the little tenant’s escape! They contin¬ 
ued to press and tear until the walls at length 
gave way, and they found to their chagrin that 
the boat was empty. 

“ Ha!” scoffed Max, “ you boneheads! Served 
you right; next time you want a lunch, try to 
earn it honestly,” and he tossed a stone sharply 
into their midst, scattering the villains instantly, 
to the disgust of Tommy, who had, of course, 
hoped to obtain a specimen. 

“ There are around four hundred species of the 
water beetle clan in our rivers and ponds,” Uncle 
John informed. “All of them are past masters 
in the art of swimming and diving and are pirati¬ 
cal to a degree, being fitted with strong mandibles 
which are supplied with a suction apparatus, thus 


A BAND OF PIRATES 


235 


enabling them to feast gluttonously on the juices 
of soft-bodied water creatures. The females 
cover their eggs with a cocoon of hardened jelly- 
like stuff. This cocoon has an inner and an outer 
case, and is attached to a curiously shaped floater. 
The larvee are the bloodthirstiest little pirates im¬ 
aginable, eating insects and snails, and when 
these are scarce, preying upon each other. They 
pass their pupal stage in the ground. 

“ The whirligig beetles which I mentioned are 
close kin to the water beetles, being small oval 
forms whose lives are certainly one mad whirl. 
They can dive in pursuit of their prey, if need be, 
but as a rule their lives are spent circling dizzily 
on the surface of the water. Some three hun¬ 
dred and fifty species have been catalogued, but 
only forty of these are known in our waters. 
Like the water beetles, they have sharp mandibles 
and an unappeased appetite.” 

“ What about the water boatmen, I think you 
called them? ” queried Alice. “Are they beetles, 
too?” 

“No, they are mottled, oval-shaped bugs, and 
decidedly queer specimens, being one of the few 
aquatic musical performers, playing a smart tune 
on their snout with their fore legs. Their hind 
legs are oar-shaped, and they swim rapidly, being 
able to chase their prey above or below the sur¬ 
face, as they cany down with them a film of air 


236 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 

held by the fine hairs which cover the body. 
When cold weather comes on, in common with 
the other creatures of the pond, they sink to the 
bottom and hibernate in the mud. If perchance 
their pool dries up in the heat of summer, they 
take to their wings and hunt a new location. 
While en route on this business, they are fre¬ 
quently attracted by an electric light and swirl 
blunderingly about it with moth-like insaneness. 
The beak of the water boatman is sharp enough 
to pierce one’s finger, and the effect is much like 
that of a bee sting. The eggs are attached in 
masses to the under water stems of plants. Mex¬ 
ican Indians and half-breeds are fond of these 
eggs baked in a cake with meal. They are said 
to have a pungent acrid flavor. The boatmen 
themselves are shipped by the ton to England as 
food for game birds, poultry, and fish, one ton 
containing around twenty-five million of the in¬ 
sects. 

“ Closely resembling the boatmen is another 
queer race of bugs called the back-swimmers, but 
they are easily distinguished, as these creatures 
always swim flat on their backs with their belly 
upwards. Then, too, they carry a large ballast 
of air below with them, and are obliged to hold 
fast with their fore legs to some stone or a water 
plant to keep from rising. They are pirates of 
particular strength, being able to overcome a 


287 


A BAND OF PIRATES 

good-sized minnow. The females carry stout lit¬ 
tle egg-laying tools, by which a slit is made in the 
stems of water plants and the egg mass thrust 
partly inside for safe keeping. Probably if we 
look about among the water plants and rushes we 
shall be able to find a back-swimmer’s nursery.” 

It was a happy suggestion, and one which 
shortly brought results; for Max’s eager eyes lo¬ 
cated a pierced stem with its trailing decorations, 
and he hauled it triumphantly forth. 

“Well done,” ejaculated Uncle John, but as 
the stem came to his hand his expression changed, 
and he drew a magnifying glass from his pocket, 
asking each one to observe the nursery carefully. 
He waited expectantly, but, though there were 
plenty of comments, the point he hoped would 
score escaped the eyes of all, not even excepting 
Tommy, who was fast becoming no mean ob¬ 
server. “ I thought you would see it,” he said, 
then, a bit disappointedly, as the glass and stem 
came back to him. “ How often must I tell you 
never to take anything for granted? Does this 
nursery tally exactly with the description given 
for that of the back-swimmer’s? ” 

“ Why,—y-es,” stammered Alice, “a slit in the 
stalk, part of the egg mass inside and part hang- 
ing.” 

“ Was that your impression, Tommy? ” 

“ Well, no,” observed the boy slowly; “ to me 


238 NATURE'S CRAFTSMEN 

it seemed as though the egg mass were all inside; 
the part hanging looked like mere streamers or 
decorations of some sort.” 

“ Why didn’t you my so, then? ” Uncle John 
queried, relieved. “ For what you observed be¬ 
tokens that the nursery does not belong to Mrs. 
Back-swimmer at all! It is the property of the 
water scorpion, and of a particular one of the 
scorpions ,—Madam Ranatra. There are two 
species in this interesting family. Madam Ra¬ 
natra is long, thin and slender. Her nursery is 
always embellished with seven streamers. If we 
were to sever one of these, we should find that it 
is in truth a little air-tube. Its function is not 
altogether certain, but doubtless it supplies free 
ventilation to the eggs and later to the tiny 
youngsters, and further affords them a safe pas¬ 
sage into the water. 

" Madam Nepha is the other member of the 
water scorpion tribe. She is flat and oval and as 
unlike her cousin Madam Ranatra as it is possible 
to imagine. They have, however, several fea¬ 
tures in common: their fore legs are swollen and 
fitted for grasping; at the anal end of the body 
each bears two tail-like hollow tubes; when united 
these form a circuit to convey air to the insect 
while the rest of its body is under water. Both 
are pirates of great ability, attacking small fishes 
and other water insects. Madam Nepha’s nurs- 


A BAND OF PIRATES 239 

ery is distinguished by the fact that there are but 
two floating streamers.—Goodness me! is that 
the supper bell? ” 

“ It surely is,” bemoaned Alice, “ and we 
haven’t half exhausted the inventory you gave us 
in the beginning.” 

“ Well,” Uncle John laughed comfortingly, 
“ the pond will be here all summer; so will its 
chief citizens. We needs must make a dozen or 
so trips anyway, if we would be on speaking 
terms even with half of the population.” 


LITTLE AIR POLICEMEN 


“ When can we go back to the pond?” queried 
Alice, a few evenings after the expedition which 
all had enjoyed so thoroughly. 

“ Some time in the next millennium, judging 
from the stack of work before me,” Uncle John 
returned ruefully. “ However,” he added more 
cheerfully, as he noted the dismay in the faces 
about him, “ there’s no reason why we can’t have 
some of the leading citizens brought up here. 
Tommy, do you know the 4 nymphs,’ as some call 
them—those comical looking little characters, 
with faces much like a bulldog? Perhaps you 
have watched some of them tacking about by 
means of the power they get from the recoil of 
their curious little water cannon, which is in truth 
a sort of yawning funnel, that serves the double 
purpose of breathing gills and swimming agency. 

“No? Well, you have missed some mighty 
interesting individuals. Suppose you take the 
garden rake and a bucket and go down to-mor¬ 
row afternoon. Rake out the first bunch of trash 
you note in the bottom. I dare say it will have 

several nymphs cradled in its meshes. Look 

240 


LITTLE AIR POLICEMEN 241 

sharp; for their color is exactly that of the rub¬ 
bish which shelters them. They have six grass¬ 
hopper-like legs, and no wings, but really you do 
not need any further description; their faces 
name them. One caution: don’t put the nymphs 
in your aquarium when you get home. They are 
every whit as ferocious as the ugliest bulldog that 
ever graced a kennel. Everything from small 
fish to mosquito larvse disappears from before 
them, the size of prey, of cotirse, depending upon 
the size to which the nymph itself has attained.” 

Such a conclave as there was when Tommy 
returned the next day with his find! And small 
wonder: for never had the children beheld such 
ridiculous looking individuals! Their heads were 
just about all lower lip, as Ruthie exclaimed, and 
with reason, for this peculiar feature covered the 
face like a mask from the eyes downward. Fur¬ 
thermore, as though this were not enough, the 
queer trap, as they soon discovered it to be, was 
hinged at the “ chin,” and folded backward along 
the breast between the bases of the fore legs. 
When offered a fly, the lip shot forward with 
lightning-like speed, revealing a formidable ar¬ 
mament of teeth, hooks, and spines well adapted 
to holding any struggling creature, no matter 
how wildly it essayed to get free. 

“ There are other nymphs similar to these in 
the old pond,” .Uncle John explained when he 


242 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


came in. “But they are not so plump; their 
habit of burrowing under the sediment along the 
bottom tends to flatten them out. Indeed often 
all that can be seen of this species is the tip end of 
their body reaching upward for breathing pur¬ 
poses. Yet other nymphs exist that are so widely 
different in form that their relationship would 
never be suspected but for their bulldog faces. 
These nymphs have worm-shaped bodies, with 
three flat gauzy gills shaped like so many elm 
leaves clustered at the posterior end. 

“ Nymphs are the larvae of certain very inter¬ 
esting little winged creatures, but I am not going 
to disclose their identity. Feed your captives 
well on flies or any other creatures that come to 
hand which are smaller or weaker than them¬ 
selves, and watch daily for developments. You 
will find them changing their suits whenever they 
get too small, and probably several such changes 
will be made before the grand transformation. 
The nymph does not pupate; when it gets good 
and ready it simply casts its old larval skin and 
unfolds its wings, shakes them dry and sets out 
on its self-appointed task of policing the air for 
flies, gnats and mosquitoes.” 

“Air policemen are they —hmm ” murmured 
Max. “ Let’s see: if we guess ’em, will you tell 
us, Uncle John? ” 

“No, he W 071 H” Tommy decided sharply. 


LITTLE AIR POLICEMEN 243 

“ That would spoil half the fun of finding out 
for ourselves. We’ll watch!” 

And watch they did faithfully, until a day 
came when the largest, plumpest nymph climbed 
up the stem of the water plant which had been 
thrust into the big glass jug which formed their 
quarters, and remained so motionless in the bright 
sunshine that all felt the final hour of triumph 
had arrived. Uncle John had warned that the 
transition might take some time; so a guard was 
established, and all went about the duties of the 
morning until Grandmother, who had the eleven 
o’clock hour, set the bell pealing which meant, the 
skin has begun to crack: come! 

How eager and excited they all were! 44 What 
will it be, do you s’pose? ” Ruth whispered 
tensely to Grandfather, but he only shook his 
head, and bade her keep her eyes open. 

And indeed there was every necessity for this 
if she was to witness the miracle. For the crack 
turned all suddenly into a broad split, and shortly 
there emerged an odd, damp, pointed creature, 
with a large head on a slim neck. Its legs were 
short and near the front of the thorax, and all 
curved forward so sharply that it was plain their 
purpose was not for walking, but for grasping 
and clinging to their prey. The eyes were very 
large., and the folded antennae, when shaken out, 
proved to be small and short. Evidently the 


244 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 

glory of the creature was to be its wings, which 
were wrapped about it in sheeny folds. Two 
pairs presently emerged, of nearly equal size, 
with so many veins crisscrossing in every direc¬ 
tion that their surface seemed to be cut up into 
tiny cells. Moist and weak and crumpled they 
were at first, but the hot sunshine soon remedied 
this, and when Uncle John slipped off the screen 
frame which covered the “ nursery,” the little 
creature rose and sailed gracefully away. 

“ Snake-feeder,” ejaculated Max, following its 
course happily. 

“ Devil’s darning needle,” Grandfather af¬ 
firmed, and added slyly: “ If you don’t watch out 
it will sew your ears fast to your head! Least¬ 
wise, that’s what folks used to say when I was a 
boy.” 

“ Daddy Thornton says its business is to feed 
and doctor snakes, especially water snakes,” 
Tommy averred. “ He terms it a snake doctor.” 

“ They call it the flying adder, and the horse 
stinger over seas,” said Uncle John, “ both terms 
being indicative of former superstitions. The 
proper term is dragon-fly, and the little creature 
is in truth as harmless as it is beautiful. 

“Dragon-flies come and go. None of them 
lives to a ripe old age, from twenty-five to forty- 
five days being the average limit. But new ones 
are continually hatching throughout the season, 


LITTLE AIR POLICEMEN 245 

and the cycle of growth is thus kept up appar¬ 
ently without a break in the ranks of the air po¬ 
lice force. They are indefatigable in the pursuit 
of their duties, and dart hither and yon, altering 
their direction with the most surprising sudden¬ 
ness, and never by any chance failing to seize 
upon their prey. Possibly gnats and midges 
are seized with the jaws, but larger specimens are 
undoubtedly pinioned by means of the curious 
legs, which are so adeptly curved and turned for 
grasping. Always the victim is devoured during 
flight, and so rapidly is the whole performance 
executed that it is impossible to more than guess 
at the details. Flies form the bulk of the diet, 
but small butterflies and moths are frequently 
taken, and on occasion a wasp has been seen to 
disappear before the dragon-fly’s lightning 
charge. Large dragon-flies are said to devour 
smaller ones, and indeed will even grasp vora¬ 
ciously at their own bodies when offered them. 
They have enormous and indeed apparently en¬ 
tirely unappeasable appetites. One authority 
affirms that he fed a certain large specimen forty 
house flies inside of two hours. 

“ Some two thousand species of dragon-flies 
are known, three hundred of these being found in 
America, but never all of them in any one local¬ 
ity. States differ in regard to the number. For 
example, something over one hundred may be 


246 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


found in New York State, while but fifty speci¬ 
mens have been counted in California. Dragon¬ 
flies cannot stand an arid climate. Their favor¬ 
ite haunts are in the vicinity of ponds and small 
streams, but on bright sunny days they may ven¬ 
ture far over the meadows in search of prey. 
Because of the striking beauty of their wings, 
which do not take on their color for several hours 
and sometimes even days after hatching, dragon¬ 
flies offer especial interest to collectors. Two 
distinct types of dragon-flies are recognized: the 
Zygoptera , whose wings in repose are held up¬ 
right; and the Anisoptera, whose wings are held 
horizontal. To the former belong the pretty lit¬ 
tle slender-bodied species called the damsel-flies, 
whose wings show such brilliant spots of color. 
Besides the common blue damsel-flies, other fa- 
milar kinds are the red-spotted, the black-winged, 
and the green-bodied damsels. It is in the 
Zygoptera clan that the greatest range of size is 
found, the smallest having abdomens only about 
half an inch in length, while the largest has an 
abdomen of about four inches. Usually both 
males and females are marked alike; the excep¬ 
tion is that of the amber-wing dragon-fly, the 
males having wings of clear amber-yellow, while 
the females have plain wings splashed with 
irregular amber bands. 

“ Some of the dragon-fly females carry sharp 


LITTLE AIR POLICEMEN 247 

little egg-laying tools for the purpose of deposit¬ 
ing their eggs in the tissue of plants. Others 
lash the water with their abdomen, thus allowing 
the eggs to be washed off. Certain species choose 
pond sites for their nursery, others prefer small 
streams, and still others like the swift running 
water. The dragon-fly nymphs are often called 
water tigers, because of their voraciousness. As 
a clan, the dragon-flies belong to the Odonata, or 
membranous-winged order. Their nearest of kin 
are the May-flies, white ants, old Madam Doodle¬ 
bug, 1 and the little lace-winged flies. 

“ Because of their habit of swarming and mi¬ 
grating in immense numbers, in times gone by, 
the dragon-fly was the subject of no little super¬ 
stitious dread. The folk-lore of Europe and the 
Orient abounds with strange tales of these fierce- 
looking insects,—the Devil's own darning nee¬ 
dles. According to the annals of Illinois, one 
day in August, 1881, the air for miles around was 
literally alive with dragon-flies, swirling from a 
foot above ground to as high as the eye could 
reach. They followed a southwesterly course, 
and were bound who could say whither, and with 
what evil portent? Naturalists are now satisfied 
that dragon-flies migrate only when forced to do 
so by the drying up of the ponds and streams 
where they have made their homes. To-day the 


248 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


number of dragon-flies is rapidly diminishing the 
world over, because of the drainage of their 
breeding places. 

“ The dragon-fly has proved, in the past, a 
very great friend to man. I wonder if any of 
you can guess how? ” 

“ I wonder if you mean that he kills mosqui¬ 
toes? ” asked Tommy. “ I have seen him chas¬ 
ing them many a time.” 

“ Right. Countless millions of these little 
blood-suckers have been slaughtered by the vigi¬ 
lant policemen of the air—to our own comfort.” 


« 


AN ARTFUL LITTLE DIVER 

“I met another one of the pond’s distinguished 
citizens to-day/’ Tommy observed, as the family 
gathered for their usual half-hour in the twilight. 
“ But I was at a loss what to name him: he was 
extremely energetic, swimming and diving in 
every direction, and sometimes leaping clear 
above the water to snatch his prey. He had 
prominent eyes, a stout beak, long feelers, an ab¬ 
domen tapering to a tip, and his body was moder¬ 
ately stout. His suit was dark brown, and he 
was probably half an inch in length, all told. At 
first I thought him a spider, but he didn’t 
classify, as his six legs proved him to be an 
insect.” 

“ Good! ” applauded Uncle John, softly. “ I 
have high hopes of you, my lad. Nine out of ten 
people unquestioningly name these little pond 
creatures water spiders. The naturalists, how¬ 
ever, have dubbed them the water striders, be¬ 
cause of their seeming ability to stride here and 
there across the surface of the water on their re¬ 
markably agile long, slender legs. Their eggs 

are fastened to the under water stems of plants, 

249 


250 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


and the creatures hibernate in the mud in the 
bottom of the pond. They belong to the bug 
family, and though truly aquatic, they are struc¬ 
turally nearer akin to the land bugs than to the 
other water bugs. 

“ Though various American members of the 
Lycosa clan are fond of spinning their webs near 
the water and at times of running over the sur¬ 
face or diving beneath it, we really have no true 
water spiders in our country, albeit another in¬ 
sect, the water mite , is commonly mistaken for a 
small spider. But there is a water spider, a most 
interesting specimen, belonging to the Lycosas, 
known as the Desia which lives under seas among 
the coral reefs in the Indian and Pacific oceans. 
Another spider, also one of the Lycosas , called 
the dome spider, is common along the waterways 
of Europe and Asia. This latter individual is 
the real prince of water spiders, or perhaps we 
should say princess, as it is the female that is most 
in evidence. She is truly a past master in the art 
of house building, weaving a veritable silken pal¬ 
ace that is strictly water-proof. As she swims 
about on the surface, she looks like a big silver 
bubble. And the reason for this shows what an 
artful creature this little spider is: she is really 
encased in a ring of air bubbles formed by air 
entangling in the thick, fine hairs with which her 
coat is covered. The water presses round but 


AN ARTFUL LITTLE DIVER 251 


cannot get between the hairs, and thus the air is 
imprisoned, making a perfect little wrapper of 
compressed air for the spider’s use when she goes 
below. 

“ But this is not all. If we could don a diver’s 
suit, and go down to her under-water retreat with 
the spider, we should find that her den on the 
bottom of the stream is even more wonderful 
than she herself is. To begin with, her home is 
always built between two stones, which serve not 
only as the beams and rafters, but for firm an¬ 
chorage as well. And, as you may well imagine, 
it often takes no little searching to find just the 
right location: for the spider is just as particular 
regarding shade, and view, and good water as we 
are when we go hunting building sites. It is not 
enough that two stones shall be found in close 
proximity to suit her needs. The water there¬ 
abouts must be fresh and pure and not too swift. 
Also there must be plenty of mosses and herbage 
to serve as a screening background for her little 
domicile. The ideal spot is two stones nearly of 
a size standing quite close together amid a clump 
of wide-branching seaweed. 

“ Having found such a spot, the spider at¬ 
taches her thread to one of these rocks and starts 
her silk factory going full blast. As her silk is 
reeled out she winds it round and round her own 
body, yard upon yard, until at length she is in 


252 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


the center of a deftly fashioned hut of silken 
thread. Then she makes fast her thread and 
goes outside to have a look at the house. What 
a quaint little dome-shaped affair it is! It looks 
very much like a miniature Eskimo hut. But 
there is no door in the side. Indeed, at first 
glance, there does not seem to be any door at all. 
But of course there is, else how could the spider 
herself have come out? If we could swim under 
the hut through the narrow channel between the 
stones, we should see that the door is placed in 
the floor; moreover, it stands open most invit¬ 
ingly. How many unwary minnows, water bugs, 
tiny crabs and other sea folk essay to pass that 
way to their undoing? Who shall say: for of 
course, Madam Argyroneta is an expert fisher, 
and it is in this clever manner that she essays to 
stock her larder. 

“ But there is another reason for having the 

door opening from the floor into the water: you 

know that air never sinks in water. And there 

must be a good supply of air in the dome at all 

times, for here the little Argyroneta babies are 

domiciled until thev are able to care for them- 

%/ 

selves. Whenever the little mother comes down 
from the surface, she always brings a load of 
fresh air held securely in her hairy coat. Once 
inside the hut this life-giving oxygen is released: 
the roof of the dome prevents its escape, and, of 


AN ARTFUL LITTLE DIVER 253 

course, it cannot depart by way of the door, as the 
mother does. For the latter reason, the moment 
she comes out, Madam Argyroneta rises to the 
surface: she must have air to breathe. 

“ Once upon a time, a certain Argyroneta 
housewife had waited in vain for something to get 
entangled in the clever nets she had strung across 
her little fishing-pool; her larder was empty and 
her babies clamoring for food. Something had 
to be done, and at this juncture the voices of some 
little crab children were heard outside, close to 
the walls of the dome. 

“ 4 I do wonder what this soft, silken shape is? ’ 
one of them was saying. 4 It is so fresh and 
dainty. What a lovely blanket it would make! 
I wish we could find a shell big enough to house 
it.’ 

“At once Madam Argyroneta was out through 
her lowly door and appearing bobbing and smil¬ 
ing, albeit a bit breathless, before the surprised 
and half-frightened young crabs. 4 1 heard you 
admiring the walls of my house, my dears/ she 
said. 4 It is much lovelier inside. Won’t you 
come in and look around, and see my babies? I 
have a score or more. I think, too, that I can 
offer you some delicious oyster crullers. I dare 
say you are hungry at this hour in the morning; 
most young sea folks are.’ 

“ Altogether the offer was too kind to be re- 


254 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


fused; certainly nowhere was there a pleasanter 
looking hostess. The young crabs followed her 
with alacrity, and they were soon inside the dome. 
But there, as they stopped to admire, a sudden 
shock of misgiving smote them. White and de¬ 
liciously airy the place was, to be sure; but what 
was all that rubbish strewing the floor? Heavens! 
it was just like a charnel house. Bodies of caddis 
worms, young oysters, sea slugs, yes! and crabs 
lay in every direction. In alarm, the youngsters 
turned to flee. But their hostess quickly blocked 
their path, and oh! how curiously her big eyes 
flashed. Gone, too, were her pleasant smiles and 
graces. 4 What little ninnies you are, to be sure! ’ 
she cried harshly, and with that she pounced upon 
them for all the world like a terrier suddenly 
loosed among a nest of bewildered and frightened 
young rats. Snatching the crabs up one at a 
time, she bit sharply and viciously into a vulner¬ 
able spot, and flung the limp victims hurriedly to 
one side. 4 Aha! what a splendid catch! ’ she ex¬ 
ulted. 4 How quickly flattery fills an empty 
pot! * ” 

“ Timm! Spiders is spiders,” adapted Alice 
softly, and swooped up Ruthie with a quick 
44 Come into my parlor, honey,” as she buried her 
face in the soft, dimpled neck and made as though 
to eat the eager, round-eyed little girl all up. 

“True enough,” Uncle John smiled, himself 


AN ARTFUL LITTLE DIVER 255 

going on to turn an old-time phrase to suit his 
needs. “ Once a spider, always a spider, whether 
on sea or land. In winter the Argyroneta builds 
a snug warm nest in deep water where it hiber¬ 
nates until the season comes round for the pursuit 
of its legitimate business. Never was there a 
professional diver more devoted to his craft than 
is this creature, which wants air to breathe like all 
its kin on land, and yet chooses to build its home 
at the bottom of a pond or stream and even on the 
sea floor. It is a striking example of the adapta¬ 
bility existing in Nature everywhere. Having an 
appetite for water fare, this little animal, with so 
many land-like traits, proceeds to show that we 
are creatures of our environment only so long as 
we choose to remain such. Our destiny lies in 
our own hands; we can become whatever we most 
desire to be.” 

“ That being true,” averred Tommy stoutly, as 
one and all turned to their own pursuits, “ just 
watch me become Mr. Thomas Lane Dayton, the 
eminent authority on all sorts of nature lore! ” 


THE BIRDS’ WATCHMEN 

“Merciful goodness!” ejaculated Mabel, 
covering her ears with her hands. “ Did you ever 
hear such an outcry in all your life? What do 
you suppose is the matter? ” 

Grandfather smiled his slow jovial smile that 
always dispelled irritation. “ Well,” he haz¬ 
arded, “ knowing the catbird as well as I do, I 
would say that he is merely springing his watch¬ 
man’s rattle. You know, legend relates that the 
catbird was once a sneaking gray cat that pilfered 
the birds’ nests, eating both eggs and young, until 
in desperation they gathered in a great conven¬ 
tion and petitioned the gods to help them. 
Straightway their enemy was changed into a bird 
and doomed to nest low in the trees with a watch¬ 
ful eye ever on the homes of his neighbors. His 
erstwhile call, with which he w T as wont to make 
the night melodious, alone was left to him, and 
this in due time he adapted to serve him admi¬ 
rably as a rattle. Of course, being a great jester, 
mocker and impersonator, the catbird often takes 
advantage of his position, but on the whole he 

attends remarkably well to the duties imposed on 

256 


THE BIRDS’ WATCHMEN 257 

him. Listen to his voice now rising loudly above 
the tumult out there. Is he not doing his best to 
restore peace and quiet? ” 

“ He sounds just like Miss Berry used to when 
she banged her pointer down on the desk and 
yelled ‘ Order! ’ at the top of her lungs,” com¬ 
mented Alice, dryly. 

“ And I doubt not he succeeds about as she 
did,” Tommy laughed. “ If the truth must be 
told, I’m pretty sure he often starts the riot! 
I’ve seen him stop suddenly in the midst of a 
song—and he can sing, for sure!—and go droop¬ 
ing off with a comical hang-dog air that is laugh¬ 
able enough when one knows he is only putting 
on some stunt. Probably half of his ridiculous 
attitudes and poses are a part of his detective’s 
disguise. Who knows what bird mysteries he 
may be unraveling while he acts the part of a 
clown? ” 

“ There’s a catbird’s nest in the blackberry 
tangle down in Daddy Thornton’s pasture,” Ma¬ 
bel confided. “ I saw it just the other day. It is 
thrown together helter-skelter, sticks and leaves, 
rags, bits of string, newspapers and what not, 
like any old scrap-basket. But it is softly lined, 
and probably the little birdies hatched from the 
pretty green eggs will be as happy as though 
cradled in the finest structure known to Bird- 
land.” 


258 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


“ I love the catbird,” Auntie commented. “To 
my mind he is not so much a watchman as an 
actor. A veritable vaudeville clown he is, so full 
of jokes and tricks that a volume could not con¬ 
tain them all. On occasion, too, he excels as an 
opera singer. Like his interesting cousin, the 
mocking-bird, his song bag contains a varied re¬ 
cital of other birds’ notes, with a few bars of his 
own thrown in to complete the measure. Mrs. 
Wright interprets his usual lay as ' Prut! Prut! 
Coquillicot! Really , really, coquillicot! Hey , 
coquillicot! Hey! Victory! y But he is full of 
unexpected surprises; he may run on uninter¬ 
ruptedly for an hour, or close mysteriously after 
the first few notes. The early morning always 
seems to find him in the happiest moods; his cat¬ 
call seems to be most in evidence during the nest¬ 
ing season. Both he and his little wife are nerv¬ 
ous and highly strung, and it does not take much 
to rouse them to a fine scolding order.” 

“ If you are bent on discovering the real bird 
watchmen,” put in Uncle John, “ observe the 
kingbirds. You know them, I think. They wear 
a grayish-slate dress coat and a dapper white 
silk vest. There is a concealed crest of orange- 
red on the crown, a black tail broadly tipped with 
white, black feet and bill. Mrs. Kingbird is 
similar to her mate, with the exception of the 
crown. They are very devoted to one another, 


THE BIRDS’ WATCHMEN 259 

and both of them delight in policing the neigh¬ 
borhood for birds of prey, crows and blue jays. 
They hate these rascals for the cowardly, sneak¬ 
ing thieves that they mostly are, and Mr. King¬ 
bird likes nothing better than to establish him¬ 
self in some tall tree, or other high vantage point, 
from which he keeps a sharp lookout at all times, 
excepting when obliged to quit his post and take 
a turn at the nest while his mate gets a brief rest 
as she wings the air for her food. 

“ Nothing is more valuable in the poultry yard 
than a pair of kingbirds. They hate a hawk, and 
woe to one of these chance prowlers which ven¬ 
tures into their precinct! They are upon him in¬ 
stantly, alighting on his back and pecking him 
unmercifully about the head and neck, until he is 
glad to turn about and flee for his life. King¬ 
birds are often to be seen among the cattle in the 
pasture policing the backs of the cows for the 
miserable gadflies which cause them so much trou¬ 
ble. Ninety per cent of the kingbird’s food is 
composed of meat,—beetles, grasshoppers, wasps, 
spiders and butterflies being highly relished. 
He has also been accused of a fondness for bees, 
and bee-keepers regard the bee-martin, as he is 
called, with a baleful eye. Good authorities, 
however, maintain that the bird eats nothing but 
drones. This being true, he is really of service in 
the apiary.” 


260 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


“ There was a tremendous hue and cry in the 
garden one day last week,” supplied Alice, “ and 
on going to learn the reason I saw a pair of king¬ 
birds pursuing a red-headed woodpecker across 
the yard at a great rate. I wondered what he had 
been up to, and later as I passed by the brown 
thrasher’s nest in the rose hedge I saw that her 
brown-speckled egg was gone. I remembered 
then that she had been chief among the birds in 
the tumult, and I’m pretty well satisfied the red¬ 
head was the thief.” 

“ Circumstantial evidence has convicted many 
an innocent bystander,” warned Uncle John. 
“ Maybe Mrs. Brown Thrasher jumped to a con¬ 
clusion, just as you have done. The robber might 
have been a cat.” 

“ Only the slyest and nimblest of cats could 
reach the nest,” Alice returned, “ and you know 
the redhead is not above pilfering on occasion. I 
was sorry, for I felt sure the brown thrashers 
would abandon their nest, and they had spent so 
much time and labor on it, building a deep, cosy 
structure and decorating it handsomely with frills 
and streamers of torn paper. But evidently they 
had faith in the valor of the kingbird watchmen; 
there are three eggs in the nest now, and Mrs. 
Brown Thrasher has been sitting for a week. 
Her husband is on constant guard, and once when 
the thieving redhead flew across the yard he let 


THE BIRDS’ WATCHMEN 261 

out a screech which brought the kingbirds to his 
side in a hurry. But their services were not re¬ 
quired, for the woodpecker stood not on the order 
of his going, and I don’t believe he has ventured 
near since.” 

“ Hmm,” mused Uncle John, “ that does 
sound bad for friend Redhead. But I can’t help 
but like the merry drummers, and indeed egg¬ 
stealing is so infrequent among them that such 
doings are believed to be the work of some degen¬ 
erate member rather than a family trait. The 
redheads wear the national colors, red, white, and 
blue so well that they are often called the flag 
birds, but alas for their reputation, sometimes 
their blue is so black that they have been accused 
of wearing the German colors.” 

“ Doubtless it was such a one who robbed the 
brown thrashers,” Tommy declared. “ Where do 
the kingbirds nest? I’ve hunted high and low 
without success.” 

“ The favorite site is an apple branch high up, 
but they will occupy almost any tree about the 
garden and lawn. Grasses, moss and weed stalks 
form the carefully made nest; the lining is of 
plant down and fine grasses. There are from 
four to six rosy white or creamy eggs, softly 
spotted with brown and lilac. The young 
king-birds are fretful, obstreperous little chaps 
who cry a great deal, doubtless deeming that 


262 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


their mother should pay more attention to them 
and less to the general affairs of the neighbor¬ 
hood. 

“ Just as the catbirds and kingbirds are the 
bird policemen of the garden and orchard, so, too, 
the yellow-breasted chat keeps watch over the 
thickets of woodland and pasture. He is also a 
clown, and a fine ventriloquist in the bargain. 
He can do all sorts of stunts. Listen to what a 
poet bird-lover says of him: 

“ Aloft in sunny air he springs; 

To his timid mate he calls; 

With dangling legs and fluttering wings, 

On the tangled smilax falls; 

He mutters, he shrieks— 

A hopeless cry; 
iYou think that he seeks 
In peace to die; 

But pity him not; ’tis the ghostly chat, 

An imp, if there is one, rest sure of that. 

—Abbott. 

* 

“ Burroughs tells us that he can bark like a 
puppy, quack like a duck, rattle like a kingfisher, 
squall like a fox, caw like a crow, or mew like a 
cat. But why he goes through all this rigma¬ 
role is an unsolved question. Perhaps he seeks to 
entertain his brooding mate; again it may be that 
his own excessive energy drives him to these 
stunts to keep himself from boredom as He patrols 
his usually quiet beat. In one of his principal 


THE BIRDS’ WATCHMEN 263 


features, he suddenly starts aloft with a loud cry, 
then holding his wings stiffly above his back and 
letting his legs dangle brokenly, he sinks down¬ 
ward with a zigzag jerking motion, as though 
hauled back into the shrubbery by an invisible 
force. Perhaps he thinks thus to ward away his 
enemies! If he does, it is certainly mistaken 
energy; for the dullest observer can but be at¬ 
tracted by his queer antics. Let one come within 
a quarter of a mile of his precincts, and he sets 
up a worried protest, screaming vainly that his 
nest is somewhere in the copse, and that you 
mustn’t look for it, much less touch it. Poor lit¬ 
tle ninny! His very lack of discretion is his un¬ 
doing. 

“ Nor is he any^ wiser after nightfall. Like the 
mocking-bird and the rose-breasted grosbeak, he 
is fond of twittering away to himself in the moon¬ 
light. The yellow mocking-bird, some people call 
him, but he does not belong to the mocker family, 
which includes simply the mocking-bird, catbird, 
and brown thrasher. He is a warbler. The red¬ 
start, the ovenbird, and the summer yellowbird or 
wild canary are the best known of his interesting 
kindred, who are for the most part delightful bits 
of feather, smaller than the English sparrow, and 
garbed in coats of olive, blue, and black, deeply 
marked and splotched with white and shades of 
yellow. All of the family are fond of the deep 


264 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


shade, and all bear the slender, finely-pointed bills 
of the true insect eaters. 

“ Our yellow-breasted guardian of the rough, 
berry-grown hillsides and dense, shrubby fields is 
identified by his chatter and the bright yellow of 
his vest, which gleams all the more brilliantly 
because of his olive-green back and white under¬ 
parts. His feet and bill are black, and his eye is 
nearly enclosed by a white ring, which adds no 
little to his clown’s make-up. He measures about 
seven inches. Mrs. Chat’s nest is not specially a 
work of art. But its bulk of grasses, weed stems 
and bark is softened by a cosy lining, and being 
placed near the ground in the most tangled part 
of the shrubbery, it would stay safely hidden, but 
for the crazy, over-anxious antics of her spouse.” 


A GREAT HUNTER 


“ Fiddle-iddle-iddle ! ” The notes rang out 
sharp and clear and withal so challengingly, that 
the listener looked up from his book quickly. 
“ Hello! ” he said,“ I’m Max Dayton. Who are 
you? ” 

The answer was prompt: “ Dick-fiddle-iddle- 
iddle” 

“ Ho, ho! ” laughed the lad, “ you are a jolly 
fellow for sure. Dick-fiddle-iddle-iddle! I’m 
certain I never heard of you before. But doubt¬ 
less you are a distinguished member of Nature’s 
orchestra; which do you play, first or second 
violin? ” 

“ Fiddle-iddle-iddle” 

“ Your pardon, I am sure,” the lad laughed de¬ 
lightedly. “ You are old-fashioned, I see. It’s 
a fiddle you play. Well, go ahead and let’s see 
what you can do.” 

But the little musician only reiterated his 
boast, and the lad chose to take exception to his 
failure to make good. “ I don’t believe you can 
fiddle at all,” he cried scornfully. “ And now I 

think of it, perhaps that is not what you meant me 

265 


266 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


to understand. Ho! Uncle John! Please come 
here. There’s a bird asking you to fiddle-iddle- 
iddle. Evidently he has a fancy for listening to 
one of your concerts.” 

Uncle John came to the door, but instead of 
his violin he carried a book. Plainly he, too, was 
not in the humor for “ fiddling.” “ Where is the 
gentleman? ” he asked. 

“ Out in the bushes there somewhere,” Max 
returned. “ He seems to be loath to show him¬ 
self, and I do not recognize his call. Dick-fiddle- 
iddle-iddle! Did you ever hear of such a fel¬ 
low?” 

“ Often,” smiled Uncle John, “ and Pm sure 
you would recognize him, too, if he were to send 
in his card. It reads ‘ Mr. Dick-fiddle Che- 
wink.’ ” 

“What!” exclaimed Max, surprised. “The 
chewink! That industrious little chap that 
Grandfather calls the ground robin? ” 

“ The same,” Uncle John nodded confirmingly. 
“ Some people name him the towhee. In the far 
south a white-eyed species is called the grasel. 
Four-and-twenty of them make a splendid pie.” 

“ But, Uncle John, I’ve flushed the chewink 
countless times,” argued the boy. “ He always 
darts into the bushes with a whir of wings, and a 
flirt of his long tail, and I never heard him say 
anything but kriink or towhee. Sometimes when 


A GREAT HUNTER 267 

he reaches a safe harbor he calls back tauntingly 
towhick, towhick, towhee. Tommy thinks he 
says: ‘ Can’t catch, can’t catch m-me! 5 ” 

“ And I’ve no doubt that is exactly his mean¬ 
ing,” Uncle John smiled. “ For, as you have 
said, that is his note of defiance. His call note is 
a happy little cry of towhee , towhee , which leads 
to his name of towhee bunting. His love song 
is the little trill you have just heard, ' Fiddle- 
iddle-iddle, Dick-fiddle-iddle-iddle! 9 99 Uncle 
John imitated the notes so cleverly, that at once 
there was an angry little query from the shrub¬ 
bery: “Towhick? TowheeV 3 Evidently Mr. 
Dick-Fiddle feared that a rival had arrived in 
his precincts. But Uncle John forbore to tease 
him. “ Go on back to your lady love, Dick,” he 
advised. “ I’m extra busy.” 

“ But, Uncle John,” detained Max, “ wait a 
minute. How shall I make the acquaintance of 
Mrs. Chewink? I know her spouse well enough: 
he looks much like our friend robin redbreast. 
But he is smaller and darker in color than the 
robin, with black in his coat instead of tawny 
brown.” 

“ Mrs. Chewink is very like her mate,” in¬ 
formed Uncle John, “ save that she is a bit 
smaller and less brightly colored. She builds her 
nest in a hollow on the ground, and then fool¬ 
ishly covers it with twigs and leaves to the peril 


268 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 

of the dusty white speckled eggs and the helpless 
little fledgelings which are often crushed beneath 
the heel of the unwitting passer-by. 

“ The chewinks belong to the Finch family, 
and they have many finch-like traits. For ex¬ 
ample, watch them do their leaf-scratching: One 
jump into the air, a quick motion forward, and 
how the leaves do fly! You know perhaps that 
the finches are the Smiths of Birddom. The 
family is so exceedingly large that it comprises 
about one-seventh of the bird world. In truth, 
one is quite safe in naming a bird a finch if it 
doesn’t fit readily into any other family. The 
sparrows all belong to the finch tribe, so do the 
redpolls, the crossbills, our dear little grosbeak 
neighbors, and the buntings, j uncos, and snow¬ 
flakes numbered among our winter visitors. For 
sociableness and good cheer the chewinks rival 
their nearest of kin the goldfinch and that won¬ 
derful blue ‘ air-flower ’ the indigo bunting, 
though they have not the musical talent of these 
little friends, nor their skill in architecture either, 
for that matter. Mrs. Goldfinch’s nest you already 
know. It is a marvel of weaver’s art, being a 
deeply hollowed cup of vegetable down and plant 
fiber, lined plentifully with soft thistle-down, and 
placed about twenty feet from the ground in the 
crotch of a fruit or shade tree. The indigo’s nest 
is built in the bushes, or perhaps hung from a 


269 


A GREAT HUNTER 

► 

weed stalk. Grass, leaves, downy seeds and fine 
roots, with a lining of fine grass and hair, make 
up its comfortable depths. Another cousin of the 
chewink is the purple finch. He is a veritable 
little music-box, and is as well known to the boys 
and girls of the Middle and New England states 
as the robin is to you. Indeed Mrs. Purple 
Finch has such confidence in mankind that one 
may almost touch her while she is brooding. She 
has doubtless never heard of caged finches, or if 
she has, their common name of purple linnet de¬ 
ceives her. 

“ The chewinks are exceedingly industrious, 
and must be numbered among our very best in¬ 
sect hunters. They come early enough to destroy 
the sleepers in the rubbish piles, and here is where 
the chewinks get in their best service to mankind. 
They destroy these nuisances before they have a 
chance to propagate. Chief among the pests so 
taken are the beetle larvse, especially the white 
grub of the May-beetles. But the chewinks are 
not by any means partial to beetles. As the sea¬ 
son advances, you will find them hunting moths, 
hairy caterpillars, cabbage worms, grasshoppers, 
potato bugs, and even cockroaches. There is 
practically no limit to their appetite, and a half 
dozen chewink families on the premises will save 
the farmer and orchardist many dollars through¬ 
out the growing season.” 


270 


NATURE S CRAFTSMEN 


“ I shall go and tell Tommy about ’em this 
minute,” averred Max, as his uncle turned away. 
“We boys are never half careful where we step! 
I came up through the shrubbery pell-mell not 
half an hour ago. I do hope I didn’t crash into 
Mrs. Dick-Fiddle’s quarters! ” 


THE FIRST PAPER-MAKERS 


“Hear! Hear, folks!” Alice proclaimed, 
rapping smartly on the table, as one who must 
have instant attention. “ This is an S. O. S. call. 
Miss King has given me the hardest subject for 
a composition: 4 The First Paper-Makers/ and I 
can’t find a thing about them in the encyclopedia, 
though there is oodles about paper. Fancy, if 
you can, what it would mean to do without paper! 
I could write a good theme on that, but —who 
ever made the first paper anyway ? ” 

44 The Chinese, if you are referring to the 
product of man,” Auntie replied, 44 but I imagine 
Miss King had in mind the real founders of the 
art—the hornets.” 

44 To be sure she did,” Tommy spoke up 
quickly. 44 1 was telling her about our hunt for 
Nature’s craftsmen just the other day, and she 
said she would love to help. But the hornets the 
first paper-makers! Say! I know something 
about their work. Why haven’t we thought of 
them before? ” 

44 Principally because we have not put on our 

thinking caps, I fancy,” Miss Merryhew smiled. 

271 


272 NATURE S CRAFTSMEN 

“ Then, too, we have been pretty much occupied 
with the little craftsmen neighbors that seemed 
to come naturally to hand/’ 

“ I should say so,” chimed Alice, “ and, though 
I want to know about hornets, I would just as 
soon we didn’t attempt any intimacies with them. 
They are much too nervous and irritable to suit 
my fancy.” 

“ Same here,” agreed Max with great prompt¬ 
ness, and everybody smiled, as the lad even then 
had one eye swollen half shut from the effects of 
a bee sting. 

“ The hornets do hold the original patent on 
paper,” Uncle John conceded, as they turned to 
him. “ Authorities all agree that man got his 
first ideas in paper-making from them. Indeed, 
the industry as we know it to-day is only about 
seventy-five or one hundred years old; while these 
little people of the great outdoors have been liv¬ 
ing in paper houses of their own manufacture 
since the beginning of time. Their young have 
been wrapped in the softest of paper blankets 
and nestled in the most perfect paper cradles, 
and, in short, paper of some kind and description 
has answered their every household need. One 
variety of their paper compares very favorably 
with the blotting paper made by man; their 
housebuilding paper is water-proof, and yet an¬ 
other kind has all the properties of cardboard. 





- 































THE FIRST PAPER-MAKERS 273 

And this notwithstanding the fact that the little 
workers have absolutely no complicated ma¬ 
chinery of any kind at their command—a feat 
which seems the more remarkable after visiting 
a large paper factory, and viewing the immense 
vats, huge rollers, and heavy complicated ma¬ 
chines of various sorts which man finds necessary 
in the perfection of the paper art. 

“ Another thing: man makes paper of old rags, 
wood pulp, water, and a combination of chemicals 
for bleaching and whitening. The hornets use 
nothing but wood. They prefer old wood well on 
the verge of decay,—an old log, a fence post, a 
window ledge where the paint has pealed and 
cracked; but if this is not to be had, they will work 
on the bark of young trees, and in consequence 
often do considerable damage in a growing wood¬ 
land. Likewise, too, all kinds of vegetable ref¬ 
use, moldering leaves, plant stalks and the like 
serve the paper wasps in nest-building arrange¬ 
ments. 

“ The bald-faced hornet is the best known of 
the little paper-makers, but as a matter of fact 
she is not a hornet at all. She belongs to the 
tribe of social wasps, and shares her trade in 
common with the other members of the family. 
Naturally they do not all fashion paper alike, but 
all of it is very strong and durable, and a wasp 
nest will last six or eight years. Of course, there 


274 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 

is also a wide difference in architecture. Some 
wasps build pear-shaped homes; others are round, 
and still others build in spiral form. In South 
America is a paper wasp which builds great 
structures fully three feet across, and containing 
thousands of little cells, each of which serves sev¬ 
eral times each season as the cradle of a baby 
wasp. 

“ Wasps, like bees, live in colonies which con¬ 
sist of the queen, drones, and workers, but no 
matter how strong their numbers they are crea¬ 
tures of one season only. The young queens, 
which are hatched late in the fall, leave the nest 
as winter approaches in company with the drones 
for a brief marriage flight. The first frost catches 
the shiftless drones, but the young queens, heavy 
with eggs, creep into some warm shelter and sleep 
the season through. Then, with the first hint of 
warm spring days, they come forth and each one 
chooses a nesting site and founds a new colony of 
her own. 

“ I once watched a young Queen Baldface at 
this task, and a more interested, industrious little 
individual than she I never expect to see. The 
location was the sturdy arm of an old oak which 
stretched behind the tool shed. The material 
came from the decaying timbers of the shed it¬ 
self, and, notwithstanding that there was but one 
pair of tiny jaws on the job, matters progressed 


THE FIRST PAPER-MAKERS 275 

with amazing swiftness. All day long and all 
night, too, I am sure, the work went steadfastly 
on, the little worker tearing off tiny splinters 
from the old rough-hewn timbers, chewing and 
moistening them with saliva and rolling them into 
a ball. When the ball was as large as could be 
carried, off she went to her workshop—a big leaf 
close to the site. Here the ball was spit out, 
thoroughly kneaded and spread in the sun to dry. 
But it was by no means finished. Just as the 
paper pulp in our factories is reduced to con¬ 
sistency by mixing and beating, so, too, is the 
little hornet’s product prepared. And I wouldn’t 
undertake to say how many times each little pellet 
was turned, kneaded, chewed, and torn and 
spread to sun again. Some authorities claim 
eight or nine processes for each tiny bit of pa¬ 
per; at any rate the business went on over and 
over until the keen eye of the little worker was 
satisfied with the result. Then, as a finishing 
operation, the paper was sized or glazed. And 
how do you suppose this difficult work was ac¬ 
complished? Simply by licking every portion of 
the surface. When dry, the coating of saliva was 
firm and hard and moisture proof. 

“ After* enough material had been collected to 
warrant the beginning of actual building opera¬ 
tions, the queen proceeded to lay the foundation, 
or perhaps we had better say the ridgepole; for 


276 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


the hornet is the queerest of all known carpenters. 
She builds her roof first, and follows with the 
attic, upper and lower stories, and last of all the 
basement! First Queen Baldface applied a lib¬ 
eral coat of glue in the shape of her ever useful 
saliva. Then came a paper cable laid bit by bit, 
about half an inch in length and as thick as a 
good stout darning needle. Upon this was hung 
a ball-shaped house of paper, about the size of a 
hen’s egg, with a small hole at the bottom to serve 
as a door. Then, without pause or rest, the fur¬ 
nishing was begun. Of course, as the door was 
too small and the interior darker than a pocket, 
I could not follow matters there very well. But 
I knew from the examination of old nests, that 
she packed the place as full of cradles as they 
could stand, and in each one she put a tiny egg. 

“ It was surprising, too, how soon the little 
family appeared. Short, indeed, was the brief 
rest allotted the queen mother. But doubtless 
she was glad to have it so. The season would be 
all too brief to build the house of her dreams, and 
leave behind a satisfactory contribution to the 
hornet race. How she worked those first few 
days, gathering food for the ten or a dozen 
hungry mouths! And her temper was peppery 
to a degree! I ventured an offering of fruit juice 
in an old can, with the idea of relieving her tire¬ 
some trips to the strawberry field and raspberry 


THE FIRST PAPER-MAKERS 277 

patch. But I lost the use of both eyes for a 
couple of days for my pains. After that you may 
be sure I pitied her arduous labors no longer. 
And she really didn’t need my assistance; for the 
babies were grown up in short order, ready to 
take their places as willing workers in enlarging 
their home and building new cradles, that more 
workmen might be supplied. 

“ There was no more earnest labor on the farm 
that season than went on down there behind the 
old shed. Such rasping and splintering of wood 
and plant fibers; such chewing, kneading, and 
pommeling; such turning, drying and fitting. In 
place of the humble little paper cot of a dozen 
cradles there soon rose a stately edifice, fully as 
large as a huge grapefruit, with countless cradles 
for young Baldfaces. But not yet was the 
Queen’s ambition satisfied. Indeed, it was plain 
that only the very best that each one could do, 
working might and main, would be acceptable. 
Thus, daily additions were made to their paper 
palace, and the continuous and ever increasing 
clamors for fly meat and fruit juices kept every 
one on the wing, notwithstanding that young re¬ 
cruits were constantly reaching maturity and 
joining the working hordes. With the advent of 
the young queens and drones, matters reached 
the pinnacle. I sometimes wondered if the 
frantically busy little folks ever slept. Then af- 


278 


NATURE S CRAFTSMEN 


fairs of my own reached a desperate pass, and 
when I again found time to observe the Bald- 
faces their erstwhile busy factory hung empty 
and forlorn. Their labors were over, their goal 
achieved, and they themselves had gone the way 
of all insect paper-makers. What marvels of pa¬ 
tience, fortitude, and untiring industry they had 
been! Before their eyes beckoned a certain pur¬ 
pose to be achieved and to this end all their forces 
had been bent. Nor was anything short of death 
sufficient to turn them aside. What a homily for 
us all in their brief history! 

“ Indeed, taken by and large, there are no more 
interesting craftsmen than the wasp clans. The 
force numbers some nine hundred species. Nor 
are they by any means all paper-makers. Only 
the members of the social tribes, that is those 
wasps which live in colonies, follow this interest¬ 
ing occupation. The solitary specimens include 
nearly all of the principal trades. Some are 
miners, delving deep into the earth; others are 
carpenters, cutting out their homes in solid wood; 
still others are masons and potters, working in 
mud and clay. Whatever their calling, each and 
all of them rival in industry the busiest little busy 
bee that ever bustled about. You will find it 
most interesting to seek them out and learn their 
habits. Moreover, so long as you do not attempt 
to interfere in their affairs, they will not resent 



© Paul G. Howes 

MASON WASP AT HER NEST 



© Paul G. Howes 


THE “JUG BUILDER” 









THE FIRST PAPER-MAKERS 279 


your presence. Wasps and hornets never start a 
fight unprovoked, but they are suspicious, there’s 
no doubt of that. And goodness knows they have 
had reason to be! ” 


AN INSECT CARPENTER 

“ I have had my eyes open for wasps and hor¬ 
nets ever since we talked about them the other 
day/’ announced Tommy, one evening. “ But I 
haven’t had any luck until this afternoon when 
I was crossing the big woods. I had been loiter¬ 
ing along watching a flicker courtship, and say! 
that’s another story, but I’ll tell it first. The 
flicker has been called the polite bird, you know, 
and this love-struck specimen was certainly a 
prince. How he did bow and scrape, almost 
twisting his neck out of the socket in his efforts 
to show what a beautiful red crescent he had on 
the nape of it! Then he spread his wings and his 
tail and flirted about to show their lovely sheen 
and extreme length. ‘ Just see what a large 
handsome fellow I am! ’ he seemed to say. And 
he pranced about, bridling and stepping forward, 
backward and sidewise, and swelled out his 
pretty, black, crescent-marked breast. All this 
time, too, he kept up a dreamy coaxing note, 
which sounded like the soft swishing of a willow 
wand. He certainly did produce a fine effect; 

but every once in a while the ninny spoiled the 

280 


AN INSECT CARPENTER 281 

whole thing by letting out a silly, nervous laugh 
that made me long to shake him. 

“ By and by, however, matters were evidently 
settled, and Mr. Flicker flew over to a big hollow 
stump near by. I hardly think he meant to in¬ 
dicate that this might do for a nesting site. 
Flickers usually go high.—High-hole, you know, 
is one of their many names.—More than likely he 
thought to find an ant or some such dainty to 
offer to his sweetheart. And I think he was just 
as astonished as I was when the biggest hornet 
that ever buzzed flew from the ruins and gave 
him most plainly to understand that trespassers 
were not desired. With a loud yarup, he turned 
tail, showing the white feather in real earnest, as 
his golden wings bore him away through the 
grove. 

“ I remained perfectly motionless, and Mrs. 
Hornet did not so much as give me a glance. 
Two carpenters would be one too many, she evi¬ 
dently thought, when she objected to the wood¬ 
pecker’s intrusion; for I soon found that she was 
herself no mean workman, and had undertaken to 
construct a home there in the stump. How sav¬ 
agely she seemed to bite and tear at the decaying 
wood! I was astonished at the size of the splin¬ 
ters she managed to break off, but I’ve been 
looking up the subject a little since I came 
home, and I find that in proportion to her size 


282 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 

the hornet has the strongest jaws of any living 
creature. 

“ She had only just begun on the job, but so 
steadily and to such purpose did she work that 
she soon had an opening that seemed to suit her 
needs. As she chiseled and rasped, she had taken 
the precaution to chew each piece to smithereens 
before she dropped it. I couldn’t understand the 
purpose of this; so I determined to wait and see. 
By the time her doorway was completed, she had 
quite a pile of this saliva-mixed pulp. But to all 
intents and purposes she had forgotten it; for 
now she plunged into a perfect frenzy of house¬ 
cleaning, popping in and out every now and then 
just as you girls do to shake dust-mop and duster. 
You might indeed have gleaned a few pointers 
from her; for she seemed especially particular 
about her own person, stopping frequently to set 
her dress right and wipe her hands and face. Just 
because she was cleaning house was no reason for 
allowing herself to get all messed up and untidy. 

“ I thought she would never get done, but I 
knew better than to make any offer of assistance, 
even though I suspected that the careful sweep¬ 
ing and overhauling of the walls was a job alto¬ 
gether too severe for one small housekeeper. 
Nor did she seem quite content with just getting 
the walls clean, but went on rasping and ridging, 
until suddenly I understood quite well what she 


AN INSECT CARPENTER 283 

was about. Her methods were those of the den¬ 
tist who roughens the inside of a tooth to make 
the filling stick. The carefully prepared pulp 
was intended for cradles and partitions, and she 
knew very well that there would be small chance 
of making it stick to a smooth surface. 

“ How I longed to peep inside when she actu¬ 
ally did get at the furnishings! But instead I 
came home and consulted Uncle John. He says 
the hornet is a mason as well as a carpenter. 
Once her walls are ready, she carefully plasters 
them with her wood pulp mixture, which is 
thoroughly water-proof. Then the cradles are 
built in, following the usual hexagon, or six-sided 
pattern of Beedom. Always the small cells are 
arranged tier on tier, with the mouths either open¬ 
ing downward or sideways. A person standing 
beneath the cells and looking upward could see 
directly into the cradles. This is extremely 
handy for the nurses, but it means, of course, that 
the cradles are always turned upside down! ” 

“ Goodness me! ” ejaculated Alice. “ How do 
the babies stay in? ” 

“ Just what I queried,” laughed Tommy. 
“ But the little hornet mother is quite equal to the 
problem. In the first place, her eggs are glued 
fast; then, when the little grub hatches, it clings 
to the shell by its tail, and cranes its neck out to 
be fed. The mother is nurse only until she raises 


284 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


her first brood; afterwards matters go forward 
just as in a bee colony. And how hungry the baby 
hornets are! However, they are easily appeased: 
for they will eat anything and everything,— 
sweets, fruit, vegetables, and meat. Apropos of 
the last article, hornets are tireless in their pur¬ 
suit of the common house fly, being one of his 
most inveterate enemies. They are fond of 
countless other insects, too. Indeed, so keen are 
they for a meat relish, that they are often called 
the insects of prey, just as the lion and tiger are 
called beasts of prey, and the hawk and the eagle 
birds of prey. 

“ To return to the little hornet grub: As it 
grows stronger, it wriggles and tumbles about, 
as babies will, and sometimes one forgets its tail- 
hold and tumbles out on the ground. Like 
Humpty-dumpty, all the king’s horses and all 
the king’s men cannot make it whole again! It 
is a job for the undertakers of the tribe, and it is 
quickly interred in the sawdust left at the junk 
pile. Barring accidents, however, the youngsters 
thrive lustily, and presently arrive at the happy 
state of the boy at the picnic, they can chew but 
they can no longer swallow, and so they turn their 
heads and refuse further offers of food. 

“ Shortly, then, they begin to grow sleepy and 
indolent. However, they must make themselves 
safe before they dare to shut an eye, and perforce 



HORNET ATTACKING A HONEY-BEE 
































































AN INSECT CARPENTER 285 

they begin to spin fine threads of silk, winding 
themselves each in a little silken mummy case, 
which they stick fast to the walls of their cell. 
Now they can sleep securely, and while they are 
thus occupied Nature takes a hand and trans¬ 
forms them into full-grown hornets. They wake 
eager to try their strong jaws, and begin at once 
eating their way out through their silken wrap¬ 
pings. In no time almost they have joined the 
working forces, willing to do all in their power 
to further the strength of the colony. 

“ Uncle John is so enthusiastic regarding the 
industry and fidelity of the hornet tribes gener¬ 
ally, that I mean to keep an eye on my carpenter 
clan. Perhaps I can induce some of them to 
neighbor with us next year. Uncle John main¬ 
tains that, because of their many admirable quali¬ 
ties and the good work they do in destroying 
flies, it is unfortunate that man has recorded 
them in his black books. However that may be, 
I figure a large part of the fault lies with the 
hornets. They are so pesky suspicious! If I 
don’t get stung for my pains, I’ll be surprised.” 

“ You mean,” Max retorted sagely, “ you will 
have pains a-plenty, if you do get stung. You 
would better go slow. Grandfather says he has 
known a half dozen of their poisonous stings to 
put a man in the hospital.” 


SOME FAMOUS NERVE SPECIALISTS 


“ What would you think of a band of insects 
so skilful in administering anesthetics as to turn 
the most famed specialist green with envy? ” 
Uncle John queried, as he and the children were 
setting forth for a specially conducted tour, on 
one of their always delightful half-holidays. 
“ Keep your eyes open for a slender, slim-waisted 
shape, with a tapering abdomen held to the body 
by a thread, and decked out in a uniform of black, 
with red belts and bands, and gay yellow wings.” 

“Wasps again, Uncle John!” cried Alice. 
“ Is there to be no end to the marvelous per¬ 
formances of these little people? What a book 
could be written about them! ” 

“ Perhaps I shall attempt it, some day,” her 
uncle laughed; “ certainly it would make a most 
interesting subject, and an exceedingly large 
book as well, if one came anywhere near doing 
justice to them. The particular clan I wish to 
introduce to-day is known as the digger wasps. 
There are some twelve families in the group, and 
their homes are cradle-like burrows in the ground, 

well-stocked with a collection of beetles, eater- 

286 


■ 



© Paul G. Howes 

HAIRY WASP (DIGGER) WITH ITS BEE VICTIMS 



© International Newsreel 

WASP ENLARGED SHOWING PROFILE 



287 


NERVE SPECIALISTS 

pillars, crickets, or what not, according to the 
particular taste of the species. The odd part 
about this stock of provisions is that the game 
supplied is not dead, but stung into insensibility, 
and so is kept wholesome and fresh until the little 
wasp grubs are hatched and ready to feed upon 
it. This is where the skill of the nerve specialist 
comes into play. Each little expert knows by in¬ 
stinct just where to plunge her hypodermic nee¬ 
dle in order to strike the nerve centers and render 
the body inert and motionless without killing it. 
Both wise and merciful is this method of slaugh¬ 
ter. And indeed it is the only solution to the 
digger householder’s problem; any game that was 
killed outright and buried for the use of the off¬ 
spring would decay and perish utterly before the 
little ones were in condition to use it. Besides 
their wisdom in this instance is to be considered 
their ingenuity in taking their prey, the skill with 
which their burrows are hidden, the individuality 
of the different tribes, and their cleverness in us¬ 
ing improvised tools. But wait! you shall see 
and judge for yourselves. 

“ I had the good luck to run on to the burrow 
of a hairy sand wasp yesterday. Of course, as 
you will presently see, I should never have lo¬ 
cated it, had I not chanced upon Mrs. Hairy just 
as she was in the act of sealing up the place, and 
I set a mark of my own for future reference. 


288 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 

For it would be as easy to find a needle in a hay¬ 
stack as it would to spot the lowly door again un¬ 
aided! Her tunnel is a well, about three inches 
in depth, sunk straight down into the bank along 
the creek, where there is a sufficient mixture of 
clay and sand to make drilling easy. . . . 
Ah! Go carefully. This is better fortune than I 
really expected.” 

And it was providential surely! For as they 
rounded the bend, behold! a large wasp rose from 
her labors and sailed away. They had come 
straight upon Mrs. Hairy at work in the excava¬ 
tion of another cell, and it needed but a moment 
for them to drop carefully down within range. 

Finding everything quiet, the little driller soon 
returned to her task, and with her jaws for a 
pick, and her sturdy feet for both rake and shovel, 
how the dirt did fly! Soon she was quite lost to 
sight, but there was no abatement in her zeal, 
and presently as they waited in almost absolute 
stillness, there arose from the depths of the well 
a curious faint humming sound—the noise made 
by her little drill as she ground around some ob¬ 
stacle. “ A bit of stone likely,” Uncle John ex¬ 
plained, and shortly the truth of this supposition 
was proved, when Mrs. Hairy appeared at the 
mouth of the excavation and tossed out a bit of 
quartz. 

From time to time thereafter other bits were 



NERVE SPECIALISTS 


289 


brought up, and all went into a little heap beside 
the opening. Then, at the end of an hour, Mrs. 
Hairy came out, and began a careful cleaning of 
her person. Evidently the burrow was done. 

“Will she be off now after meat? ” Max mur¬ 
mured, excitedly. 

“ Wait! ” motioned Uncle John. And almost 
as he spoke, the wasp went over to the rubbish 
heap and began a painstaking sorting of the peb¬ 
bles. What was she after? The query was an¬ 
swered almost immediately, for Mrs. Hairy rose 
with a bit of stone, which she carried to her well, 
fitting it in the opening like a slab. Moreover, 
it was seen that she must have a very keen eye; 
for the tiny barricade fitted as though exactly 
made for that particular purpose. 

“Eureka!” whispered Alice softly. And 
with one accord they all rose quietly, ready to 
follow wherever the quest for game should lead 
them. 

This was not far. After a few well-directed 
kicks which sent the remainder of the rubbish 
heap scattering to the four winds, the wasp be¬ 
gan to run here and there in the shrubbery, tap¬ 
ping the earth with her bow-like antennae, and 
then pausing to listen intently. 

“ She is on the trail of what she considers the 
most delectable morsel known to the insect world 
—a species of caterpillar called the gray worm,” 


290 NATURE S CRAFTSMEN 

Uncle John explained, “ and wherever she stops 
and begins to dig there is always a worm. She 
doesn’t always get him though; the ground 
may be too hard, or the worm too deep for her 
efforts. But it is always there, and with a little 
expert help may be brought to light. I have 
proved this time and again. How does the wasp 
know of the worm’s presence? Probably the 
earth above its quarters gives back a hollow sound 
to her taps. At any rate, she is never deceived. 
. . . Now, watch!” 

Fast and furious the wasp began to dig, and 
the soil was so loose that her efforts were soon 
rewarded. There was a sudden quick nab of her 
curved pincers, and out came the worm, rolling, 
twisting and resisting with every trick known to 
the caterpillar clan. Excitement was tense 
among the watchers, but Mrs. Hairy seemed 
calm enough. She just held on grimly to her 
find, and gave every appearance of giving the 
fat, cumbersome fellow time to tire himself out. 
Perhaps she only waited for him to expose a vul¬ 
nerable part, for presently as the worm uncurled, 
she made a swift lunge, darting her lance into the 
joint between the first ring and the head. The 
worm wilted instantly, and then the witnesses 
saw a curious thing. The wasp, which had 
seemed entirely mistress of the affair, fell in a 
series of convulsions. 


NERVE SPECIALISTS 


291 


“ Oh, poor thing!” Alice wailed sorrowfully, 
“ the wretch must have poisoned her some way. 
Can’t we do anything to help? ” 

“Wait!” cautioned Uncle John, quickly. 
And, almost ere the words left his lips, the wasp 
sprang to her feet, and with a quick shrug became 
cool and collected, entirely ready for the matter 
in hand. As she advanced upon the worm, Uncle 
John stated calmly: “ Merely an hysterical fit of 
joy. She always has them to celebrate a vic¬ 
tory! ” 

“Shades of Columbus!” ejaculated Tommy, 
wide-eyed, and an appreciative murmur followed 
the little gasp of wonder with which the infor¬ 
mation had been received. 

Then all eyes were riveted upon the small 
butcher. Beginning at the joint below her first 
attack, she proceeded methodically down the 
length of the worm, jabbing in her lance at each 
joint, with never a hint of resistance from the 
victim. It is probable that he was quite insen¬ 
sible after the first thrust. In any event, as Max 
observed, they couldn’t feel very sorry for him. 
Wasn’t it just such creatures as he that stole into 
their gardens at night, cutting off their choicest 
flowers and vegetables, apparently for the very 
love of the mischief? Tit for tat; he deserved his 
fate. 

Perhaps the wasp thought so, too; at any rate. 


292 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 

she was disposed to give him all in her power. 
And so, not satisfied with her lance work, per¬ 
haps fearing that the anesthetic administered 
would not prove sufficient, she seized the crea¬ 
ture’s head and began squeezing and pommeling 
it with her strong jaws. But she worked with 
care, pausing every now and then to note the 
effect. It was desirable to subdue the brain, but 
it wouldn’t do to go too far. Death would re¬ 
sult, and the worm thus be unfitted for her pur¬ 
poses. 

At last the wasp seemed satisfied with her sur¬ 
geon’s skill. Desisting in her efforts, she grasped 
her victim by the cuff of his neck and began haul¬ 
ing him toward her burrow. This was no easy 
task. Though limp and resistless, the creature 
was awkward and ungainly, catching on every 
obstruction, and proving exceedingly hard to 
manage. At length the immediate neighborhood 
was reached, and now a new problem presented 
itself, which Max was quick to voice: 

“ How is she going to know which one of the 
many pebbles lying about covers her door? I 
couldn’t tell to save my life! ” 

“ Search me! ” Uncle John returned, using the 
boys’ slang. “ But she knows all right.” 

This was plainly apparent. Without an in¬ 
stant’s hesitation, Mrs. Hairy walked straight up 
to a “ stone,” and rolled it to one side. Then, 


NERVE SPECIALISTS 


293 


leaving her burden before the door, she quickly 
went below. 

“ A tour of inspection,” explained Uncle John. 
“ There is some mark of the fleece about that 
door readily understood by the wasp nations. 
There are hosts of brigand wasps about; any one 
of them may have entered while Mrs. Hairy was 
absent, and she goes down to make sure all is 
well.” 

Evidently it was; for in a twinkling the wasp 
was back, and quickly grasping her plunder she 
dragged it down out of sight. 

“Now all depends on Mrs. Hairy’s records,” 
informed Uncle John. “ That worm is a sizable 
fellow, large enough to nourish a small wasp to 
maturity. If the mother has stocked enough 
male cells, she will be back in an instant and close 
up the place. In the event that provisions are 
desired for a female, she will have to go on the 
hunt again. The females are much larger and 
stronger than the males, you know, and require 
considerable more nourishment.” 

There was an eager wait, then to the delight 
of all Mrs. Hairy appeared, and after quietly 
rolling the stone into place, began to kick pebbles 
and loose dirt about, apparently doing all in her 
power to obliterate the presence of a door. 

“ Another job done,” commented Max, with a 
little murmur of satisfaction. “ Likely now she 


294 


NATURE S CRAFTSMEN 


will go on a hunt on her own hook for the balance 
of the day.” 

But he did not know Mrs. Hairy. The season 
was nearing its close. It was her task to stock 
as many burrows as possible before Jack Frost’s 
advent, and so with scarcely a moment spent in 
calculation, she moved down the bank a little 
farther and began the measurements for a new 
excavation. 

“ The best of luck to you, my friend,” saluted 
Tommy. “ I see you are like a host of other 
women kind; you don’t know when to quit! ” 

And he followed the others up into the corn¬ 
field to look for another insect nerve specialist, 
which was also a tireless hunter. 

“ This little enthusiast,” he informed, “ is a 
hunter whose services are not half appreciated by 
the farmers. She goes gunning for the plump 
mischievous offspring of the May-beetle, the tiny 
rascals which take such pleasure in eating the 
tender roots of corn and other growing plants. 
These fellows are to be found carefully hidden 
from sight in their underground tunnels and gal¬ 
leries, and Mrs. Tiphia seems to know instinc¬ 
tively where they are placed. She runs along on 
the ground, tapping and listening, and presently 
begins to dig at a great rate.” 

“See!” Tommy pointed. “Here is a black 
waspish creature digging for dear life! Reminds 


NERVE SPECIALISTS 295 

me of a dog trying to rout a rabbit from its bur¬ 
row. I suppose it is a Tiphia? ” 

It was indeed, and matters had reached such a 
desperate pass that the hunter never even real¬ 
ized that she had an audience. Fast and furious 
flew the dirt as she sought to enlarge the opening 
she had made sufficiently to reach in and nab her 
victim from above. No sooner had she essayed 
this, however, than the worm promptly uncurled 
and turned over. Plainly its object was to keep 
its back hidden; for the wasp stayed her lance 
and began to dig again from the other side. Two 
or three times the worm flopped and turned, and 
the foiled wasp was forced to renew her efforts. 
But in the end she tired out her fat, short-winded 
antagonist, and at a moment when it was slow 
in turning, her sharp hypodermic needle was 
jammed viciously into the nerve centers behind 
the head. Instantly the worm collapsed, lying 
limp and senseless, entirely at the mercy of its 
relentless enemy. 

But the Tiphia was not as vindictive as Mrs. 
Hairy. “ She has no cause to be,” Uncle John 
pointed out. “ Here is an underground nursery 
all ready prepared, and food quite sufficient for 
her own little grub.” 

She simply smeared one of the white worm’s 
fat grooves with a coat of stiff mucilage, and 
deposited an egg upon it. Then she sealed up the 


296 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 

chamber and made all safe and snug before rush¬ 
ing away to work her maneuvers all over again. 

“ In due time,” explained Uncle John, “ the 
drugged worm will come to life, and finding his 
enemy gone, will go on feeding contentedly. 
Safe and secure and all unsuspected the little egg 
rests in the warm cosy groove for a week or more. 
Then the little Tiphia grub hatches out and be¬ 
gins to suck its host’s fat. Day by day it waxes 
stronger, and finally it eats through into a vital 
part and the beetle grub dies, but not until the 
young Tiphia is quite able to devour the carcass 
before it spoils. Then, finding no other food that 
it cares for in the dark subterranean passage, it 
promptly winds itself in a silken coverlet and 
goes to sleep. As it slumbers. Nature takes a 
hand, and by and by it wakes a full-grown Tiphia, 
longing eagerly for the bright sunshine and the 
life above, which some unseen Power whispers 
about. It takes but a few moments to work up 
through the earth, and find that all the world is 
full of swarming creatures of its own kind. Very 
shortly a mate is found; there is a gay, brief 
honeymoon, and then the males disappear, and 
the females settle down to a mad struggle with 
beetle grubs, as they hurry about in the eager 
business of their life mission. Just how large a 
debt the world in general owes to Mrs. Tiphia 
and her cousin Mrs. Hairy it would be hard to 


NERVE SPECIALISTS 


297 


estimate, but it is safe to say that these two wasp 
clans save thousands of dollars’ worth of crops 
every year, and this for the most part all un¬ 
guessed and unknown.” 

“ I should say so,” chimed Tommy quickly. 
“ Why, I’ve never heard a single farmer mention 
them! I shall take Tiphias for my subject next 
composition day. And in the meantime I’m go¬ 
ing to find out just what the band is doing in our 
neighborhood.” 

“Well and good,” commended Uncle John 
briefly; “ now let us go down to Daddy Thorn¬ 
ton’s pasture. There’s a special exhibit there.” 

This proved to be more wasps, of course, a 
colony of yellow-winged diggers to the number 
of ten or a dozen, scratching in the sand like so 
many old hens, each one humming a glad little 
song which blended nicely in the general chorus. 

“ They seem care-free enough, do they not?” 
smiled Uncle John, “ and yet really there are no 
more industrious little people around. Their 
motto is, ‘ Everything in its own good time.’ 
They believe firmly in the old saw ‘ Play while 
you play, and work while you work.’ Next 
month they will suddenly galvanize into action 
and crowd into the thirty brief days of Septem¬ 
ber the labors which usually occupy the other 
members of the wasp clan for two months or 
more. Each female digs and victuals at least 


298 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


ten burrows, and as you may well imagine, every 
moment must be made to count, for September 
weather cannot be relied upon; often there are 
cold, damp and rainy days when excavating is 
entirely out of the question. 

“ All told, no wasp is busier than Mrs. Yellow- 
wings, nor is there one that can vie with her skill 
on the hunt. Her prey is the staunch and power¬ 
ful cricket, whose dreadful jaws are capable of 
tearing out the wasp’s vitals in short order, if 
they can get at her. Its legs, too, are murderous 
clubs, fitted with a double row of cruel spikes, and 
it is most skillful in using them, now in making 
nimble, evading leaps, and again in administering 
wicked kicks. Yet the slender little wasp always 
prevails. Moreover, the cricket knows that she 
will,—what were those lines you were quoting 
yesterday, Max? 

“ If you think you are beaten, you are, 

If you think you dare not, you don’t. 

If 3 r ou’d like to win, but think you can’t 
It’s almost a ‘ cinch ’ that you won’t. 

“ Well, that’s just the way it is with the 
cricket: notwithstanding its powerful strength, 
as soon as a wasp appears on the scene it takes to 
its heels in a headlong cowardly rush, and the 
little wasp, entirely sure of herself, pursues re¬ 
lentlessly. At the last moment, the cricket re- 



NERVE SPECIALISTS 


299 


sists. There is a tremendous amount of tum¬ 
bling, rolling, and dust raising, but once the wasp 
has nabbed her victim, she never lets go, and by 
and by she manages to sink her sharp little hypo¬ 
dermic needle into the cricket’s neck. It wilts at 
once, and there follows a neat bit of surgery. 
Into the stout neck, then into the abdomen the 
numbing lancet is thrust, and at length the 
cricket, quite paralyzed and helpless for all time, 
is borne away to Madam Yellow-wings’ nursery. 
Nor is this last an easy feat! The cricket is a 
bulky burden, but by gripping with tooth and 
nail the victor manages to fly off in good order, 
albeit she must often make several rests before 
her lowly door is reached.” 

“ In short,” murmured Alice, “ to complete the 
parable: 

“ Think big, and your deeds will grow; 

Think small and you’ll fall behind. 

Think that you can and you will; 

It’s all in the state of mind.” 

“ Exactly,” agreed Uncle John. “ It’s a tru¬ 
ism we see worked out all about us eveiy day. 
By the way, I was reading a magazine article 
yesterday, and the substance was that there is a 
rude awakening coming to a good many of us. 
We will have to stop blaming circumstances and 
the other fellow for our failures. Take our 


302 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


“ Success begins with a fellow’s will; 

And it’s all in the state of mind. 

‘‘And ultimately she triumphs, of course; how 
could it be otherwise, when she will not stop short 
of her goal? 

“ If you could go with her into her burrow, 
you would find it radically different from the 
shallow wells of the Hairys’ and Yellow-wings’. 
The entrance slopes back six inches or more, and 
then makes a sharp turn to the right uniting with 
a passage that runs back six or eight inches 
farther, and terminates in a little globular cell, 
just large enough to accommodate the dearly- 
purchased cicada. From the main hall other pas¬ 
sages lead off here and yonder, each one being 
supplied with a storage cell at the end. One 
cicada for a male child, two for a female, is her 
usual rule. And Mrs. Say is no slacker! So 
long as there are cicadas to be found humming in 
the tree tops, just so long she works unceasingly 
at lessening their number. Afterwards life ap¬ 
parently loses all zest; her mission is ended, and 
she loiters about in a dazed sort of way until Jack 
Frost kindly wipes her out of existence. 

“ Two other insect members of the digger clan 
that are interesting nerve specialists are those 
which prey upon two very good friends of man, 
the spiders and the big scavenger greenbottles, 


NERVE SPECIALISTS 


303 


and hence must be looked upon rather in the 
light of enemies, since what harms our friends 
harms us. The Bembexes, or fly-hunters, depart 
from the usual methods of their clan in that they 
kill their prey outright instead of paralyzing it. 
Moreover, these little people do not fit up their 
cells and leave matters to Fate as do the others 
of their clan. They cannot do this, considering 
the nature of their prey. A fly is a frail thing, 
and a preserved fly an article not to be consid¬ 
ered. It would be merely as dust and ashes. The 
Bembex baby hatches in twenty-four hours, and 
shortly thereafter the little mother appears with 
a nice, juicy greenbottle, fresh from the prepara¬ 
tion of its own ghastly tables. And she keeps this 
up as best she may during the two weeks it takes 
the little grub to grow up. Naturally, toward 
the end of this period, the mother grows quite 
frazzled and overworked. For the appetite of 
each baby is boundless. Fabre reports a total of 
eighty-two flies having been brought in by one 
energetic provider for the sustenance of her rav¬ 
enous offspring. Like the home of the Says, the 
Bembexes’ is a palatial affair. The entrance is 
as broad as one’s finger, and runs back from eight 
to twelve inches in length, where it terminates in 
a room as large as a bantam’s egg. 

“ The spider-loving wasp mentioned is 
the familiar mud-dauber, whose plastered 


304 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


mud cells decorate our porches, the eaves of our 
buildings, and often even the rooms of our home. 
I fancy you know all about his family affairs; 
if not you can easily learn, as he is quite neigh¬ 
borly inclined.” 


AN INSECT THAT PRAYS FOR FOOD 


“ Here’s a queer Dick!” said Tommy, one 
day. 

It was indeed an odd six-legged creature, such 
as they had never seen before. It had a long slen¬ 
der graceful body, with a thorax nearly half the 
length of its abdomen. There were two pairs of 
wings, and the head was a funny, triangular 
shape, with large glossy eyes, so comically staring, 
that when the thing turned its neck and glanced 
back over its shoulder, as readily as you or I could 
do, it was positively uncanny. There were three 
pairs of legs, and the odd part about them was 
that the front pair were several times longer than 
the others and much stouter and stronger. When 
Max put out an inquiring finger toward the crea¬ 
ture up came the front legs in a jiffy, and were 
clasped like pious hands above the insect’s head. 

“ Do look! ” cried Alice. “ He is praying you 
not to hurt him! I never heard of the like. 
What is he called? ” 

“ The praying mantis,” Tommy informed, 
“ but he is not one-half so pious and innocent as 
he seems. Let’s put him outside, and keep an 
eye on him for a while.” 


305 


306 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 

Forthwith, the mantis was gently deposited 
in a clump of salvia, just outside the porch, and 
the young folks mounted guard. They had not 
long to wait for real developments. Almost 
on the instant a fuzzy caterpillar crawled 
toward the mantis, and up came the praying 
arms. 

“You big booby!” ejaculated Max disgust¬ 
edly, “ afraid of a harmless, creeping thing like 
that! You could sweep it off the bush with one 
stroke of your pious hands! Atta boy, now, sic 
’em!” 

But the mantis was not to be heartened. He 
remained utterly motionless, with pious hands 
upraised, and the caterpillar came sedately on 
until within an inch or two of the poised creature, 
when it seemed suddenly to sense his presence. 
Instantly the worm’s head came up with a start, 
and then it made a quick movement as though to 
tack and whirl about. But before it could do so, 
down came the long arms of the mantis, set¬ 
tling strongly about it. No matter how the cater¬ 
pillar wriggled and squirmed it could not escape, 
and its end was soon evident. 

“Oh-h!” Alice shuddered excitedly, “the 
creature is a fraud. He was not praying at all! 
Did you notice the terribly sharp hooks on the 
inside of his arms? Small wonder that he held 
them upraised; he could the better harpoon his 



© Paul G. Howes 

PORTRAIT OF A PRAYING MANTIS 












AN INSECT THAT PRAYS 307 


victim. Praying mantis, forsooth! Preying 
mantis, I’ll say he is! ” 

“ Some folks call him the soothsayer,” Tommy 
informed. “ Others name him the rearhorse, and 
in the far South they term him the mule-killer, 
from the mistaken notion that the brown juice he 
throws out is death to mules. But no name is 
really quite so appropriate as that of the praying 
mantis, irreligious though he is. The habit of 
‘ prayer ’ is born with the baby mantids. Uncle 
John says he has seen a whole drove of them sud¬ 
denly stop and thrust aloft their front legs in 
such perfect unison that they might have been a 
band of Mohammedans at noontime. 

“ Baby mantids are cute little chaps. I saw 
some this spring. Uncle John and I happened 
to chance upon one of their egg-cases at just the 
right moment. It was as queer a relic as ever I 
hope to see; looked just like a small one-inch 
length of braided gelatine, with a tiny egg hidden 
in each fold. The eggs all stood on end, tipping 
slightly toward the center of the braid, and I 
should say there were forty in the lot. Something 
about their character warned Uncle John of what 
was about to take place, and he suggested that 
we watch them a moment. And such doings! 
All at once a light yellowish-brown creature burst 
out of an egg on the end of the braid, and his ap¬ 
pearance seemed to electrify the bunch. For in 


310 


NATURE S CRAFTSMEN 


than that he should serve as a meal for his harried 
wife, whose own days, too, are numbered? By 
the way, somebody says that if there were only 
enough praying mantids in the country, they 
might eat all the other insects and finish by eating 
one another, thus leaving to us a bugless world! 
Small chance is there of this, however, for the 
mantids have enemies of their own, one of the 
worst being a certain species of small chalcis-fly, 
which lays her eggs in the gelatine braids and 
brings off her own babies on the nourishing man- 
tid eggs.’' 


LOYAL LITTLE LANCE-BEARERS 

Early one morning, Uncle John startled the 
household by a loud, merrily whistled reveille, 
putting such great emphasis on the “ Roll out! 
R -oo-ll out! ” that the children knew full well he 
had something of unusual interest to show them, 
and came on the run, scrambling into necessary 
garments like firemen en route under urgent 
summons. 

It was a breathless group that soon stood as¬ 
sembled on the great screened porch, which was 
the family living-room in summer, and stared in 
dubious, unbounded amazement at what Uncle 
John introduced as “ the only real live music box 
and panorama in existence.” It was being estab¬ 
lished in plain view just outside against the ivy- 
clad stone wall of the well house, and it was no 
more nor less than a common wooden box, about 
twelve by eighteen inches, with a glass top, and a 
small round hole bored in one end. Inside was 
something that greatly resembled a mouse nest, 
and it is safe to say that Tommy was the only one 
of the witnesses who understood what was doing 
in the least, when Uncle John produced a corked 

bottle from his pocket, and, lifting the lid of the 

311 


312 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


box, poured in some three or four limp, lifeless- 
looking bumblebees which had been imprisoned 
in the bottle. 

“ Whoopee, Uncle John,” the boy cried 
delightedly. “ Where’d-yu get ’em? ” 

“ Slipped in and chloroformed the lot, just like 
any common house thug,” was the grinning reply. 
“ Found the nest yesterday in a crevice behind 
the door in the tool shed. It originally belonged 
to Madam Gray Mouse.” 

“And how soon will they 4 come out of it ’? ” 
demanded Tommy, eager-eyed. 

“ An hour or two. There is plenty of food in 
the box. We will keep them shut in for a few 
days, until they get used to their new quarters,” 
and Uncle John plugged up the hole in the box 
with the cork from the bottle. 

“ What! Do you mean that is a bumblebees’ 
nest?” ejaculated Alice, horrified. “Why, we 
shall all be in danger of our lives every time we 
step outside! Take them away, Uncle John, do, 
please! I’m horribly afraid of bumblebees. 
Don’t you remember how terribly I got stung 
once, when that wretched little Beals boy was go¬ 
ing to treat his sister and me to bumblebee 
honey? ” 

“ That was different,” assured Uncle John, 
soberly enough, though his eyes twinkled merrily 
at the recollection of that bygone episode, which 


LITTLE LANCE-BEARERS 313 

had been funny enough to all but the immediate 
participants. “ You were carrying war into the 
enemies’ quarters—pillaging their homes. Can 
you blame them for springing to the defense? 
Bumblebees are sworn to knighthood on reaching 
their majority, and are loyal to the heart’s core. 
Every bumblebee in the colony belongs to the 
standing army, and is provided with a lance that 
is staunch and true. Because the countless gener¬ 
ations of boys, mice, and bears have been what 
they are, bumblebees have been forced to take up 
fighting as a second nature. In times of dire 
need the whole colony, from the royal household 
down to the busy little nurses and the least mem¬ 
ber of the scullery force, volunteers for war, and 
all who have ever contested with them know how 
valiant they are. All, too, will testify that bum¬ 
blebees themselves never start a fight. If you 
don’t bother them, they will not bother you. 
Moreover, once you get interested in the busy 
routine of their daily affairs, you will not only 
forget your fear of them, but pick up many use¬ 
ful little sidelights which will be helpful in meet¬ 
ing the tasks Life sets for you. This last is the 
reason I left my nice comfortable bed an hour 
early this morning to fashion this box, and 
trap the bumblebee queen and her faithful 
retinue! ” 

“ Show us their spear, can’t you, Uncle John, 


314 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 

while they’re safe? ” begged Max, pushing to the 
front. 

“ Not very easily,” was the smiling rejoinder. 
“ It is carried in a sheath, and one needs a micro¬ 
scope for it. But I can describe it to you faith¬ 
fully enough. It is made of two slender shafts, 
about one-half an inch in length, tied tightly to¬ 
gether and forming a keen point sharper than 
the sharpest needle. Each shaft is notched along 
the inner edge in a series of grooves which fit into 
the shaft opposite. When the bumblebee strikes, 
the muscles at the base of the shaft thrust down 
first one side of the shaft, then the other, and the 
notches hold and join. At the base of the spear 
are two poison sacs, which release their poison as 
soon as the notches come together, sending it 
down along a groove on each side of the shaft. 
This poison is severely acid in its nature, and 
causes intense pain and swelling, as Alice will 
testify. Some wise fighting instinct makes the 
bumblebee always strike for the face and espe¬ 
cially for the eyes, reasoning no doubt that if it 
can but blind its enemy, it is fairly sure of saving 
its home from destruction. Moreover, the little 
lance-bearer does not lose its weapon, as does the 
honey bee, and so can strike again and again 
without losing its life.” 

“ Your idea of chloroforming the little warrior 
is a new one to me, my son,” congratulated 


LITTLE LANCE-BEARERS 315 

Grandfather. “ When I was a boy, nothing 
tasted quite so good as bumblebee honey,—stolen 
sweets, you know,—and we used to lay all sorts 
of plans to get it. Finally we hit upon the 
scheme of trapping the little defenders in the 
water jug. It was lots of fun, but rather cruel, 
as I see it now. I wouldn’t think of doing it 
again, unless I were interested in the colony from 
a scientific standpoint.” 

“Of course, Grandfather, all that is under¬ 
stood,” admitted Tommy slyly. “ But go on and 
tell us about it. It sounds interesting.” 

“ It mas/' smiled Grandfather. “ I see it all 
as though it were but yesterday. We boys used 
to scout around and locate the bumblebee nests 
and suitable barricades and lookouts in the im¬ 
mediate vicinity; then when we judged the signs 
about right, we would sally forth with our jug 
half filled with water. This was stealthily placed 
invitingly within a few feet of the nest. Lots 
were drawn and the unlucky individual sent out 
to stir up the bumblebees by threshing the nest 
smartly with a bough freshly cut from the near¬ 
est tree. Of course, by the time the big boomers 
got into motion, we were all safely hidden, and 
there was nothing at all unusual on which to vent 
their ire but the inoffensive jug. Around and 
over it they went, muttering vindictively and 
beating the air with their wings, until an answer- 


316 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


ing roar was produced inside the jug. Such a 
challenge! Pop went one excited soldier after 
another into the wide mouth, and the noise they 
made within, gasping and spluttering, only 
served to draw on the others. Finally the whole 
golden-belted horde were safely inside, or so it 
seemed. We learned not to judge by appearance 
after our first hurried dash for the precious 
honey! For there was always a second relay left 
on guard, and a second rousing, sometimes even 
a third, if the colony was large, was necessary. 
These, too, were quickly attracted to the jug and 
safely held. Then the honey cells and all the 
treasures of the house were open to our vandal 
hands, and sorry as I am to admit it now, we 
never saw anything but the honey. This we gob¬ 
bled up with relish, never even dreaming that the 
bumblebee secrets we passed by were even more 
delightful than the sweetness they had stored. It 
was years before I thought of looking into a 
bumblebee colony for the pleasure of finding out 
how they ran their affairs.” 

“ And the poor bumblebees that had been en¬ 
ticed into the jug, Grandfather,” queried Max 
quickly, “ were they always drowned? ” 

“ No, indeed,” assured the old gentleman 
gladly. “ We were thoughtless little animals, 
but not heartless. We always turned out the 
water promptly, and the bees, though appar- 


LITTLE LANCE-BEARERS 317 

ently half-dead, soon came to life, and made 
haste to establish themselves in a safer neighbor¬ 
hood.” 

“ What becomes of the bumblebees in winter? ” 
Alice wanted to know, interestedly. 

“ All but the young queens perish when the 
Frost Giants come,” Uncle John replied. “ In¬ 
stinct tells these to hide away in some safe shel¬ 
ter, where they sleep secure from all storms and 
chills. I found one last winter in the center of a 
corn shock out in the field. Old rubbish piles and 
crevices about the buildings are the favorite sites. 
The young queen I have brought in probably 
emerged about a month ago. Just how she came 
to discover the abandoned home of Mrs. Gray 
Mouse is uncertain, but as such quarters are a 
favorite nesting site, it may be that she deliber¬ 
ately hunted until she found this ready-built 
home. 

“ First of all, of course, she gave it a thorough 
cleaning; for bumblebees are famous housekeep¬ 
ers. Then she went over the outside and made it 
strictly water-proof; next she laid a fine linoleum 
of her own manufacture on the floor at one end 
of her house. This linoleum, as you may see for 
yourselves, is composed of wax, mixed with 
shredded hair and bits of grass. Here in this 
corner specially designed for the nursery she then 
arranged a novel mattress of pollen mixed with 


318 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 

honey, both materials having been gathered from 
the red clover field. On the mattress were laid 
two or three tiny eggs, the nucleus of the fine 
colony she hoped soon to have flourishing. 

“ Three or four days passed, during which time 
the queen mother hurriedly added to her pollen 
and honey mattress and laid more eggs, and then, 
as she roused to go about her labors one morning, 
lo! in the place of her first eggs were some tiny 
little white grubs, which must have gladdened 
her heart mightily. For these were workers, and 
full well she knew what need there would be of 
extra hands when her other eggs began to hatch. 
How eagerly she supplied them with honey and 
bee bread! Between times they nibbled each in 
their own place on their luscious pollen and 
honey bed, and shortly, when they had made a 
little hollow about them, they began to spin fine 
little silken cells for themselves. How proudly 
the queen mother viewed their industry! And 
as occasion offered she herself helped to 
strengthen these cells by reinforcing them with 
bits of hair, and pieces of leaves and grass mixed 
with wax. By and by each little grub was safely 
enclosed in a tight little cell over an inch long, 
and as thick as your thumb. You can see just 
what they looked like by examining other cells in 
the nest there, which these same workers, when 
they had had their short pupa sleep and emerged 


LITTLE LANCE-BEARERS 319 

to help their queen mother, assisted their younger 
brothers and sisters in making. 

“ Now, with these willing children to shoulder 
the bulk of the burdens, the queen needs no 
longer to go far afield to gather pollen and honey 
for the young. The workers do this gladly, and 
even bring in the food for the queen. She does 
not have to step outside the door; indeed she 
dare not. For faithful as are these grown-up 
children in all the duties of the colony, they have 
one serious failing. They are exceptionally fond 
of eggs. If the mother so much as turns her back 
on even her most trusted worker, the little glut¬ 
ton falls to and gobbles up as many eggs as it can 
lay hands on. So the queen must stand on con¬ 
stant guard lest her well-planned efforts come to 
naught. One would think that with all this vigi¬ 
lance she herself would develop an unimpeach¬ 
able integrity. But alas! when, before the sum¬ 
mer is over, she is the mother of laying queens, 
she is just as anxious to eat their eggs as they 
were to eat hers. 

“ By and by there will probably be fifteen or 
twenty laying queens in our colony here, with 
two or three score or more of workers. Then, as 
you may imagine, affairs will be decidedly inter¬ 
esting. Busy will be no name for the little 
queens on guard over their precious eggs. But 
there will be no danger of their coming to blows. 


820 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 

The culprits seem to know well enough that they 
are in the wrong, and whenever a pilferer is dis¬ 
covered she slinks away meekly enough. 

“ Bumblebees seem to know that their home is 
only a transient one. They do not store up pro¬ 
visions for winter, as do the honey bees. Ten 
days’ supplies on hand in case of damp and un¬ 
favorable weather is quite sufficient to satisfy 
their ambition, and at best not more than a quar¬ 
ter of a pint of honey is ever to be found in their 
little jars. That it makes up in quality what it 
lacks in quantity every boy that ever robbed a 
colony knows. Nothing more delectable than 
bumblebee honey ever tickled any one’s palate. 
Their honey jars show how adept the little work¬ 
ers are at utilizing remnants and by-products. 
Take a look at this one. Note that it is simply 
an abandoned silken pupa case, cut down, and 
glazed with a specially prepared wax to make it 
moisture proof. 

“ When our colony gets a little stronger, they 
will work on bright moonlight nights. But bum¬ 
blebees are not like the honey bees, who never 
sleep during the working season; they take ad¬ 
vantage of dark or cold nights to recuperate 
their energies. Then they show another really 
remarkable trait: a night watch is appointed to 
stand guard over the sleeping hosts. The senti¬ 
nel does her duty most faithfully: all night long 



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LITTLE LANCE-BEARERS 321 

she creeps back and forth over and around the 
bodies of the sleepers, making sure that all is 
well, until the tints of dawn begin to streak the 
east, when she sets up a queer little trumpeting 
sound with her wings, quickly awakening the 
colony. The same bumblebee serves as watchman 
night after night. Should anything happen to 
her a new guard is appointed. But don’t ask me 
who makes the appointments, nor who settles 
what bumblebees shall fill all the other positions 
either, for that matter. It may be that the tasks 
are set by lot, eeny, meeny , miny , mo style. But 
one thing seems to have been established: the 
large bumblebees attend to the building and 
mending of the nest and bringing in the provi¬ 
sions ; the smaller ones do the inside work,—such 
as building up the cradles, nursing and feeding 
the young, and generally keeping things neat and 
tidy. 

“ One careful observer watched the nurse bees 
mixing up rations for the babies. He found them 
dipping first into the honey stores, then into the 
pollen, and mixing up a special little food of the 
two in another jar. Then, preceded by maids 
who carefully made an opening into each cradle, 
the nurses took the filled c bottles,’ which they 
doubtless carried concealed about their persons, 
and gently lifting the helpless little grubs, pro¬ 
ceeded to feed them with the brownish fluid which 


322 NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 

they had concocted. The babies accepted it ea¬ 
gerly. Whether both the males and the females 
were fed with the same mixture could not be de¬ 
cided ; however, it is very probable that they were 
not; for in the insect world, you know, the kind 
and quality of the food has now come to be re¬ 
garded as the leading factor in determining the 
kind of individual that will be reared. 

“ As winter approaches, the new queens that 
come to maturity leave the nest and seek a mate. 
After which, the queens crawl away into some 
snug place for the winter, as I have said. In¬ 
stinct tells them that it would not be safe to go 
to sleep in their nests on the ground; these have 
long been charted by all the mice in the vicinity. 
As soon as Jack Frost numbs the valiant little 
defenders, there will be a grand raid, and bum¬ 
blebees, babies, eggs, honey and all will disap¬ 
pear down the greedy little red throats. 

“ One thing which the naturalists are eager to 
learn about is the number and kind of parasites 
and guest bees which are harbored in bumblebee 
colonies. If you folks keep your eyes open you 
may have something worth while to relate. 
There is one guest bee in particular which looks 
so much like its hosts that it will require careful 
observation to spot it. These bees are so lazy 
that the industrious bumblebees object strenu¬ 
ously to receiving them, but some innate sense of 


LITTLE LANCE-BEARERS 323 

hospitality forbids their turning an intruder 
away with violence, and so clever and nice man¬ 
nered is the guest, and so absolutely unable to 
take a hint, that once it is safely domiciled under 
a roof, it never leaves, and apparently its pres¬ 
ence is shortly accepted with resignation, if not 
with cordiality. Time was when people believed 
that the offspring of these bald-faced spongers 
eventually starved out the children of the real 
owners of the colony; but now we know that this 
is not true. 

“ There are numerous species of bumblebees, 
the family insignia being a thick hairy body, with 
the hairs frequently arranged in colored bands. 
They are found in all parts of the world from 
the equator to the far northern limits of vegeta¬ 
tion, but are more common in temperate climates. 
Originally no bumblebees were found in Aus¬ 
tralia or New Zealand, but they have been im¬ 
ported and acclimatized for a particular service 
which these little warriors render to mankind. I 
think perhaps you know about this,” Uncle John 
paused, smiling inquiringly as he noted the eager 
expressions about him. 

“ Yes, indeed,” chimed Max. “ No one can 
grow red clover without bumblebees. And red 
clover is the farmer’s most prized crop, not only 
because of its value for cattle feed, but as a cover 
crop for making over worn-out land.” 


824 


NATURE’S CRAFTSMEN 


“ Right you are, my boy,” endorsed Uncle 
John. “ Clover bloom is so constructed that it 
cannot make seed if left to itself. The pollen 
grows near the top of the little tubular blossom, 
while the pistil is near the bottom, under a fold 
in the flower. As you know, the pollen grains 
must reach the pistil or no seed will be formed. 
So the clover prepares a jar of honey to offer in 
payment to the insect that will do this work for 
her. There are always two applicants for the 
job: the butterflies and the bumblebees. But the 
butterflies are indifferent workers; their long 
slender tongues sip up the nectar, barely touch¬ 
ing the waiting pollen, and some bands nip holes 
at the base of the honey tube, thus leaving the 
plant a prey to the gall-making beetle and the 
rascally cutworm. Small wonder, then, that the 
clover prefers the honest, thoroughgoing bum¬ 
blebee, and as for that belted leisurely boomer, 
how he does love the clover’s precious nectar! ” 

“ I know a verse about that, Uncle John,” said 
Ruth, and, scarcely waiting for a nod of per¬ 
mission, she finished the talk by reciting happily: 

Though the bumblebee’s a rover, 

Seeking ever for sweetness new, 

To the little Lady Clover 

He in his heart of hearts is true. 

Sweet! Sweet! Sweet! Sweet! ” 

He hums it over and over. 


LITTLE LANCE-BEARERS 325 


“ Where in the wide world will you meet 
With the likes of my Lady Clover? 
Pink she is, white she is, 

A little thing of delight she is! 

Sweet! Sweet! Sweet! Sweet ! 91 
He hums as he sways above her, 

66 Nowhere at all do I ever meet 

With the like of my Lady Clover.” 

—Selected. 






















































